


Butterfly Cascade

by TwilightKnight17



Series: Hours 'Verse [8]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Fix-It, Gen, Horror Elements, I think that's everything?, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Gore, Slow Burn, TAGS AS OF CHAPTER 37:, chapter titles mean that chapter has been edited, depictions of suicide, making some smarter decisions, still not a novelization, the other games will show up too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 61
Words: 226,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightKnight17/pseuds/TwilightKnight17
Summary: One choice can be enough to destroy, to set events into motion that only end in tragedy. But that also means that one choice can be enough to give the story a different outcome.Something broken is always capable of being repaired, even when the ones doing the repairing aren’t in the greatest shape themselves…





	1. Apr. 9, 2016 - Shuffle the Cards

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t want to call it “Butterfly Effect” because that’s a cliché, and this isn't time-travel. ^_^;; So we get this instead, since it’s about the chain of events, cascading down to a happier outcome. (Also I just really like the word ‘cascade’. Nothing too deep here. XD) If anyone wants to go ahead and guess what the divergence points will be, be my guest, but BOY do I have some stuff planned.

It was surprisingly liberating to know that no one would give a damn if he died.

It was a grim thought for a teenager standing in the Scramble Crossing, but it was true. Kurusu Akira was almost one-hundred percent certain that if something happened to him right now, his parents would show the appropriate amount of grief, but would be secretly relieved that they no longer had to deal with him. An overly-cynical part of him wasn’t surprised at all that they’d sent him away in response to everything that had happened. The whole town was talking, after all.

Because look! At last, after being treated like a troublemaker for most of his childhood, he'd managed to do something that made sending him away look like a better option than just being disappointed with him. All because he’d tried to help someone. What a world.

He’d run out of energy to be angry. Everyone in his life had turned on him in the span of a few weeks, even people who should have cared. His teachers had rejected him and expelled him from school, his friends had vanished because they didn’t want to be associated with a criminal, the woman he’d tried to save had _lied to a judge_ instead of standing beside him, and his parents had taken the soonest opportunity to ship him off to Tokyo where they wouldn’t have to deal with him.

Give adults one reason not to trust you, and it was over. And Akira had given his parents plenty of reasons, apparently.

But nothing mattered anymore. He was here, and there was no changing it.

Akira reached up to fiddle with his glasses, still unused to the unfamiliar pressure on the bridge of his nose. He’d picked them up on a whim in a station shop while he was waiting for a connecting train. They were just fashion glasses; there was no prescription to the lenses, but he’d tried them on and glanced in the tiny mirror and liked how he looked. More innocent. Softer? Something like that. He’d bought them without giving it much more thought. No one in Tokyo would know who he was except his new guardian and the school headmaster. Maybe he could get a new start with a tiny bit of a new appearance.

The one other thing that stuck out about his journey was a young man he met on the train platform when he’d arrived at the first station in the city. He’d been flustered in the crowd, scrambling to find his connecting train to Shibuya, and someone had shoved him. His duffel bag had hit the ground and the contents had spilled out everywhere. Desperately struggling to pick everything up before it got trampled was a losing battle, until by some miracle someone had stopped to help.

Together they’d gotten all of his belongings in order, and when they stood back up, the man handed him the last book.

“Here.”

His silver eyes were filled with more kindness than anyone had directed at Akira in weeks, and he had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat long enough to stammer out an awkward, “T-Thank you.” The man gave him a strange feeling, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was, so he just settled for ‘grateful’.

The man smiled, but then looked away as someone called out to him. “See you,” he said, heading for the ticket gate, and Akira squashed a weird urge to beg him not to leave. Instead, he just watched him go, feeling forlorn. It was amazing how just a few weeks without anything but indifference or disdain could make you needy to the slightest of good deeds.

Presently, the crowd in the Scramble started moving into the crosswalk, jolting Akira from his thoughts. He followed, and pulled out his phone to double-check the address again. It would be one more train, from Shibuya to Yongen-Jaya, and then he’d just need to find Sakura Sojiro’s house.

As he unlocked the phone, he noticed an icon that hadn’t been there before, a sort of eye on a red-and-black background. As he watched, without even touching it, the icon expanded to fill the whole screen, and Akira realized with shock that everyone around him had stopped. Nothing in Shibuya moved, or even breathed, except for him. He looked around frantically, tapping at his unresponsive phone, then froze in fear as a figure wreathed in fire emerged from the crowd, twice as tall as anyone in the Scramble and coming directly towards him.

**I am thou--**

Akira took a step backwards, away from the figure covered in blue flames--

**\--and thou art I.**

\--and bumped into a salaryman going the other direction as people started moving again. He apologized, but after stepping out of the way he stood there and looked around in confusion. The figure was gone, and everything was normal.

Akira took a deep, shaky breath, and as the signal began to blink he finished crossing the street, heading for the main area of Shibuya station to find the train to Yongen-Jaya. He glanced at his phone, where the strange icon sat innocently alongside his messaging app, and dragged it to the trash. It was probably some kind of virus. And he was probably exhausted from traveling all day.

People got hallucinations when they were tired, right?

***

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but being stuffed into the attic of a cafe wasn’t it. And not even a clean attic; it was full of junk, and Sakura-san had gruffly informed him that he would have to clean it up himself. Akira hadn’t argued, but when the man had gone back downstairs, he looked around the filthy attic with despair. His parents had said there was a room for him, but he wasn’t sure if this qualified. It was lit with bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. There was a ‘bed’, just a mattress sitting on a base of crates. There was a desk covered in junk, some shelving units, a pile of belongings stacked haphazardly on a tarp…

But what was he supposed to do? This was his room now. He’d just have to make do, and the first order of business was creeping back downstairs as quietly as possible to find a mop, a bucket, and some old rags.

It took the rest of the afternoon to get the attic in some kind of livable state. He cleaned from the ceiling beams to the floor until the rags and mop were grey with dust, then rinsed them out and started all over again. Thankfully, there was a smaller section of the attic on the other side of the stairs with more shelves, and that helped him organize the piles of junk a little better. Extra sacks of coffee beans took up a whole shelving unit, and the piles of old, yellowing books filled another. He made sure there was still room for Sakura-san to get to the coffee, then filled the rest of the space with dingy cardboard boxes, an old bicycle with a flat tire, and extra furniture. He wasn't sure when he was going to need a full-sized card table or that many extra chairs, but it couldn't hurt to have them. The dying houseplant he decided to keep, thinking he could try to nurse it back to life. And finally, he set up the ladder. It would be a good place to hang his school uniforms, at least, so they wouldn't get wrinkled.

His own belongings, mostly clothes, took up just a single box. He opened it up long enough to fish out some pajamas, then shoved it away on one of the shelves on 'his' side of the attic and went over to sit at his newly-cleaned desk. After a moment, he pulled out his phone.

> _[Akira - 6:35pm] Hi, mom. I made it to Tokyo okay. Sakura-san seems a little gruff, but my room is big, at least._
> 
> _[Akira - 6:37pm] Shibuya has so many people in it. It’s so different from home._
> 
> _[Akira - 6:45pm] Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I got here safe. Love you._

Sakura-san came upstairs shortly after to hand over some blankets and sheets for his bed.

"There's leftover curry in the fridge. Tupperware with the green lid. You can have that, but don't touch anything else, and make sure you wash up afterwards." His voice was gruff, but Akira had been planning to survive on cup noodles, so even reheated food was better than that. 

"Thank you."

"Yeah, well, it's also my responsibility to make sure that you don't starve to death, so I have to provide at least one meal." Sakura-san looked around the attic, raising an eyebrow at the clean floors, the organized shelves, and the wilting plant. "I'm surprised you cleaned all this up, especially without complaining. At least you know how to work hard. But make sure you sleep tonight. We're going to your new school tomorrow to meet the headmaster and your homeroom teacher." 

Akira just nodded along, silently hurt that the man was so impressed that he’d cleaned.

_What did he expect me to do? Live in inch-thick dust?_

***

Long after Sojiro had gone home and Akira had eaten and made the bed, his phone finally chimed again. Akira lunged for it, halfway through putting on his pajamas, and his face fell.

> _[Mom - 8:55pm] Just make sure you don’t cause any trouble for Sakura-san. Love you._

That was all. Akira set the phone on the desk and stumbled back to sit on the bed, head in his hands. Why did they always assume he was going to cause trouble and be a bother? He grabbed for his pajama shirt, yanking it over his head and flopping back on his bed to stare up at the ceiling beams with a flat expression. This...wouldn’t be too bad, would it? Yongen was a small neighborhood, and the people seemed friendly enough if he didn’t count his gruff host.

_Your parents got rid of you for being a pain in the ass._

Akira sat up and opened the window so he could lean on the sill and observe the empty, quiet street. “Can I do this alone…?” He let his arms dangle, feeling very much like a princess in a tower. The dragon, then, would be the false accusation, driving people away from him. Or something. So who would be the daring knight that came to save him?

Akira rolled his eyes. He was obviously tired, between that hallucination earlier and now this… He grabbed his phone to set the alarm, and raised an eyebrow when he saw that the weird eye icon was back.

“I deleted you. Go away.” He dragged it to the trash again, made sure his alarm volume was turned up, and dug out his charger so it could still sit on the windowsill while it was plugged in. Tomorrow, he’d see what his brand-new school was like, and hopefully start convincing Sakura-san that he wasn’t a violent criminal.

He was going to need all the luck in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veteran Purse-Owner Scorecard:  
> Akira - 4.5 *** Akechi - 1
> 
> I once saw someone describe Akira as “bitter snark boy with a heart of gold” and...yes. God this kid is so bitter right now. But it’s not like anyone could blame him. Anyway, intro chapter, setup stuff, you guys know the drill. I feel like game!Akira has a much stronger voice than Minato or Yu, tbh.
> 
> A few housekeeping things before we begin in earnest:
> 
> 1\. We’re running the same as I did for P4, focusing on mostly what’s different other than what I need for establishing things, like this chapter. I really want to give the Thieves good characterization, though, since this is the game I actually played. XD So I want to hit more character stuff between heists, at least up until the major divergence point. 
> 
> 2\. The rating of individual chapters is subject to change, mostly because of P5’s content in general. The game’s rated M, after all. There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter if anything really hits the M, but there are so many things in this game that could go really dark if you pushed it far enough. I might decide to see what I can get away with.
> 
> 3\. In this house we support Goro Akechi as a victim of abuse and manipulation that made some fucked-up choices and really needs a 2-year-long hug and lots of therapy. If it wasn’t obvious by how I’ve written him up to this point. So be prepared for him to continue being treated as the “other protagonist”, within reason.
> 
> 4\. We are earning our canon divergence tag, ladies and gentlemen. Brace yourselves. ;D
> 
> *
> 
> Edit: Went back and fixed some wording, and added a bit to the description of Akira's junk-filled room now that DSN is out and we get that nice room walkaround. Nice, I say, even though his mattress really is on crates. Poor thing.


	2. Apr. 10, 2016 - Cut the Deck

Some days, he actually appreciated the solitude of Mementos. The rest stops partway down were quiet; even the wailing that sometimes filled the tunnels was muffled to almost nothing. There was only the occasional shadow-train rumbling down the tunnel on the opposite side of the divider. There was no phone service, no internet, nothing to connect him to the outside world.

Was it strange, that it was sometimes easier to sleep there than his own apartment? Six levels down, shrouded in darkness and blue, nothing could reach him. No calls from Shido, no “adoring fans” following him down the street, no one asking anything of him at all.

Goro liked Aiyatsbus, as much as you could like a twisted mental hellscape. The blue tint to everything made it the easiest rest stop to sleep in, and the monsters weren’t a threat anymore. Shido had no concept of how long a hit could take, especially if it was difficult to track down the shadow or the floor layouts were particularly complex, so he could get away with spending a few hours out of touch to catch up on sleep he didn’t get other times. Being a high-school student, a celebrity, and the left hand of a politician was exhausting work, but it was all going to be worth it in the end.

There was no time for a nap today, though. He had to get this done and get to school. He had an image to maintain, after all, and it took a long time to traverse Mementos on foot.

He found the shadow on the second-last floor of Aiyatsbus, tucked into a corner. There was also a treasure chest down a side path, and Goro ignored the man for a moment to hurry over and open it. One of those strange beads was inside, and he pocketed it quickly. Anything to add to his meager stock of healing items. With the chest open, though, he knew he had to get moving. He’d spent too long on a floor once, and it had been the most terrifying day of his life. The only thing that had saved him was that his other outfit blended into Aiyatsbus’s atmosphere. 

In no hurry to relive that kind of fear, he took a deep breath, trying to quiet his mind and detach from himself. His knight’s outfit wrapped around him like a blanket, insulating him from what he was about to do, and he walked down the other path and faced the shadow.

_“Who are you?”_ the shadow asked. _“What kind of monster are you?”_

“Monster…” Goro chuckled. It was the helmet. They always reacted to the helmet. “It doesn’t matter. Come, Loki.”

It was the work of a moment of invoke the call of chaos, and the man’s shadow hunched over and started to laugh hysterically. Goro left him to it, already heading for the stairs to the upper floors. These jobs were routine at this point; they took so little time that it was barely worth walking down Mementos to get to them if there was only one. But Shido wasn’t the sort to let him bank targets until he had a decent number. And multiple people going mad all at once would cause a sort of panic they weren't intending.

His one saving grace was that he’d made a deal with Shido ages ago that the only information he’d accept for his targets was their name. He didn’t know what this man’s place in society was or what he would end up doing with an unchained heart, and he didn’t want to. It was easier to compartmentalize that way. He was free to go to school, knowing that all he’d done was remove the man’s inhibitions.

***

When school was over, he checked his phone, and found three messages waiting. One from the SIU director, thanking him for his help with the most recent “case”, which was code for success with his target. One was from Sae, asking him to meet her at SIU headquarters when he finished school for the day. And the last was a newsfeed notification, which he pulled up as he headed towards the school entrance.

> _Eighty injured as a subway train derails entering Shibuya station!_
> 
> _The driver pushed the train to unsafe speeds, and as it entered the curve, it tore into the side of the platform, causing a pileup and massive delays across multiple lines. The driver is injured but conscious, and when asked why he would do something like that, he claimed that he didn’t know, and that it had just been ‘an impulse’._
> 
> _This is the latest in a string of rampage accidents that have been terrorizing the Tokyo metropolitan area for over six months now. As they begin to grow more frequent, the questions on everyone’s minds are: What’s causing this? Will they keep happening? And how do we stop them?_

Well, that explained what Sae wanted to talk about. Goro flipped through as many articles as he could find, catching up on all the relevant details he would be expected to know as he waited for the very delayed train to reach its destination. It was a shame he didn’t have his bike today, but he didn’t bother with it when he needed to go to Mementos, since he’d be at the train station anyway.

Eighty people hurt, though…

_Don’t think about it,_ Loki insisted. _You did not hurt eighty people. He did._

Right. Of course. Goro tightened his grip on his phone and forced himself to set that detail aside. Robin Hood said nothing, but he could feel his other persona’s presence, solid and comforting, even if he wasn't quite approving.

Eventually, he glanced up and realized that there were two girls across the train openly staring at him, and he pasted on his TV smile and waved, sending them into a fit of embarrassed giggles. People were so easy to fool with a sweet smile. As if those girls would want anything to do with him if they knew what he really was.

As if anyone would want the real him.

***

Whatever the circumstances, going out to eat with Sae was always a treat, even if it was only conveyor-belt sushi. He knew it was just because she wanted his opinion on things, but it was nice regardless. Spending time with people for work reasons was enough; he didn’t need or want anything more than that.

He picked up another salmon nigiri, taking a content bite. Sushi was one of the few foods he could say that he genuinely enjoyed. Growing up wondering if you were going to be fed didn’t leave a lot of room to have preferences, and now that he could eat what he wanted, he didn't really have time. Spending time on cooking was a luxury he couldn't afford. He tried out a lot of popular restaurants, but it was mostly only once, just so that he would be knowledgeable enough to talk about them. He didn’t have the budget to eat out too often; being a hitman didn’t pay quite as well as one would think, and being an intern for the police paid even less. It was a good thing Shido was paying his rent and his school fees, or he would be on the street. So pre-made meals and cup noodles were a frequent sight at his apartment when he bothered, and sushi was a welcome indulgence.

It was only once he’d finished his piece of nigiri that he realized Sae was watching him. “Hm? Is something on my face?”

“No… I was just thinking that you can eat quite a lot of sushi for someone that claims he doesn’t need much food,” Sae said wryly. She’d scolded him before for skipping meals or eating only single apples. Goro, of course, couldn’t tell her all of what was keeping him too busy to eat, so he’d made his excuses.

“Well, when someone else is treating me…” he said with a winning smile, and Sae rolled her eyes.

“Taking advantage of my generosity, Detective Prince?”

Goro reached for a tuna roll. “You know I have only the highest appreciation for you, Sae-san.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, and then Sae sighed. “Are you absolutely certain there’s no new evidence about what could be causing these accidents? They’re getting worse, and I’m growing more and more concerned.”

Goro shook his head. “I haven’t had a chance to interview the man myself, but from the preliminary reports it just seems the same as the others. I’d say it makes no sense for people to simply be snapping at random, but in the absence of some kind of pattern…”

Today’s accident did spell extremely bad news for the Minister of Transport, though. He would likely have to step down in disgrace, and would probably be replaced by someone who sympathized with Shido. That was how most of this worked, anyway. But it would be near-impossible to follow the web back to the spider without the inside knowledge he had. The threads were just too tangled, and the ones that ran through the metaverse were invisible altogether.

“What about you?” he asked, attempting to redirect the conversation. “Has there been any progress on your investigation into the mental shutdowns?”

“I might have found a lead,” she said, much to his surprise. “There was a researcher named Isshiki Wakaba who was receiving funding from the government to do some sort of cognitive research.” She didn’t seem to notice that he’d gone still at the sound of the name, two years of suppressed anxiety churning beneath the surface. “But she destroyed her research and committed suicide a while ago. If she found something terrible, like an ability to destroy someone’s mental functions, she may have been trying to keep that from the wrong hands.”

Goro swallowed a bite of his sushi roll, thinking carefully about what to say. “How are you planning to follow a lead where the person involved is dead and the evidence is destroyed?”

Sae picked at her rice. “I was hoping I would be able to track down colleagues of hers that would have some idea of what was going on back then. But it’s been like trying to catch water with a sieve. There’s so little information left surrounding the whole project, nothing is coming up in any sort of basic search. I’m going to have to do some serious digging.”

“I wish you luck, then,” Goro said, not specifying what kind. The research was in Shido’s hands, and he’d worked hard to scrub out as many traces of Wakaba’s work from anyone else’s knowledge as he could. If Sae got too close to the truth, it was almost a guarantee that he’d give Goro an order to deal with her, and Goro really didn’t want it to come to that.

***

They parted after dinner with promises to keep each other updated, and Goro returned home to his sparsely-furnished apartment. He had homework he needed to catch up on, since he’d discovered that transporting his books to and from Mementos wasn’t very practical. It was easier to sleep than work in the metaverse, so he’d do his work at night in the real world.

He’d obviously underestimated how tired he was, though, because the next thing he knew he was back in that strange stone cube, with the minuscule crack in the wall. If he pressed his ear to it, he could just barely hear the music, but the voice overrode pretty much all other sounds when it spoke.

**“You have made great strides toward your goal of achieving your justice,”** the voice said, and he felt a stab of pride at the praise. If the one that had given him his powers was pleased, he must be doing something right in this rotten world.

**“There will soon come a test of your resolve, however,”** the voice continued. **“The Trickster is about to awaken, and his presence will serve as a hindrance to your plans.”**

Goro tilted his head. “The...trickster?” he asked.

**“One cannot expect to succeed without overcoming obstacles along the way. Beware the Trickster, as he will stand in opposition to you.”**

He woke up again before he could respond, patterns impressed into his cheek where he’d been lying on the pens scattered across his desktop. He stared down at his homework for a second, trying to wrap his head around what he had been told. Someone was going to wake up...to oppose him? Who? _Why?_ Some puppet of Shido’s?

He gritted his teeth. It didn’t matter. If everything went as planned, Shido would be prime minister by the end of the year, and then Goro would be able to kick him off the highest peak of success and watch him come crashing down. Shido’s ruin had been paid for in blood, and he was too close to allow anyone to stop him now.

Certainly not some frivolous ‘trickster’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither of them are starting this in a good place. Goro’s Velvet Room is so inhospitable that he’s actually sort of clung to Aiyatsbus as a replacement. Instinctive Wild Card response to blue areas? I dunno.
> 
> His single, solitary social link hovers somewhere around Rank 2, refusing to rank up because he won’t allow himself to get any closer, and providing no benefits because he can’t fuse personas. Yaaaaaaaaaaaay.
> 
> SO WHAT IF the days that Goro is at the train station are because those are the days he needed to be in Mementos? Because the character guide or whatever seems to imply that he bikes everywhere normally, so he’s either there specifically to bug Akira, or he has some other point in being there. And the subway stations are the access points for Mementos.
> 
> *
> 
> Edit: Fixed some typos and the news about the train accident. No one died.


	3. Apr. 22, 2016 - Cat Burglars

The bizarre turn his life had taken finally hit Akira in the middle of his lunch break. He was trying to study, knowing he wasn’t going to get anything done after school, but even choosing the desk in the farthest corner of the library hadn’t deterred the whispers that followed him around like a cloud of angry hornets.

_Why would someone like that be in the library? Is he actually studying?_

_Why would they let a criminal go to school here?_

_I heard he got kicked out of his old school because he attacked someone._

_Quiet, quiet, he’ll hear you! He might come after us!_

Kamoshida, the school volleyball coach, had used another student to tell everyone about his record. He’d nearly gone into shock on the first day when he realized everyone was acting like he would murder them if they so much as breathed in his direction. That on top of the bizarre castle was almost too much. And then there was Arsène, Morgana, all of Kamoshida’s abuse, Suzui Shiho nearly dying and Akira gaining three new friends in the span of a week…

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Speaking of new friends…

Akira looked down at the bag in his lap, where Morgana’s face was peering through the unzipped top. One of his friends was a talking cat who was also a phantom thief, who had basically moved into his room. He wouldn’t believe it if he wasn’t a phantom thief now, too. At least Sojiro liked the cat. Liked the cat more than him, he’d wager.

“It’s kind of hard to study when no one will stop staring at you,” Akira murmured, tugging at his bangs awkwardly. His parents had sent him away supposedly to avoid this, and here it was, happening all over again. If there hadn’t been so much other stuff going on, it might have been enough to drive him back to despair.

Slowly, he reached for the bag, but pulled his hand back when Morgana swatted at him. “Stop trying to pet me. I’m not a cat!” his very cat-shaped friend objected, still quiet enough that no one would notice his meows. Akira and his friends were the only ones that could understand him, so if he got caught, no one would know he was anything other than a regular cat. “Are you going to be okay? We have to do the heist this afternoon; we already sent the calling card.”

“I’ll be fine,” Akira murmured. “We have to stop Kamoshida. That’s our only option.” Otherwise he and Ryuji were going to be expelled, and who knew what would happen to Ann? If he got expelled, his life was basically over. Sojiro would kick him out of the cafe, and while he was sure his parents would take him back in, he _wasn’t_ sure if he could deal with the judgment they were sure to rain down on him for screwing this up. After all, if they believed he “attacked” an important man, a teacher wasn’t a stretch to believe either.

Morgana curled up in his bag. “Just try to focus, I guess.”

Akira shrugged noncommittally. He didn’t know how to explain to Morgana why the stares made him so uncomfortable. All three of his friends had heard the rumors about him, but he wasn’t sure how much they believed, and he didn’t know if he was willing to share, just yet. So he ducked his head back to his books, trying to pretend he didn’t see the unfriendly eyes wondering why he was even in the library in the first place.

***

They met on the roof after school. Unlike past days, they didn’t bring snacks or drinks, knowing they were charging straight through to the Treasure chamber instead of spending time exploring. Akira finished a bottle of water, his feet propped on a crate as the last member of their little band entered the roof.

“Sorry I’m late!” Ann called, looking flustered. “Some of the girls from the other class were asking about Shiho. They wanted to know if she was doing any better.”

“Is she?” Akira asked.

Ann nodded. “Her condition’s almost perfectly stable. The doctors say she’ll wake up any day now.”

“All the more reason to take out that piece of shit now, so you can tell her all about it when she’s up,” Ryuji said. “Let’s go! Are we all ready?”

“Wait!” Morgana hopped up on one of the boxes, commanding their attention effortlessly. “This is your last chance. If we do this, there’s still a chance Kamoshida might die. Are you okay with that?”

Ryuji scowled. “I don’t _want_ him to die, but it’s not like I’d be sad if he did. He’s hurt enough students.”

“We don’t really have a choice, do we?” Ann said. “He’s just going to ruin more people if we don’t stop him. Especially Akira.”

Akira looked at them both. He pictured Ryuji, shaking with helpless rage as Kamoshida declared his intentions to have them expelled. He pictured Ann, eyes welling with tears as she explained that Kamoshida wanted her to sleep with him in exchange for Shiho’s place on the volleyball team. He pictured Mishima, and all the other kids, covered in bruises with broken expressions. And he pictured Kamoshida, smug and unapologetic and disgusting as he lorded over them all.

“Let’s go,” he declared, and Morgana nodded.

“All right, then! Let’s go get the Treasure!”

Akira activated the nav, and they entered the now-familiar castle. He offered a small nod of acknowledgment to Justine as they passed, and she nodded back, watching them with attentive eyes. He still didn’t know how to feel about the weird blue prison, the guillotines, or the strange man with the large nose who insisted that ‘ruin’ was coming, but he did know for sure that he much preferred the door in the Palace over the one just past the airsoft shop in the alley in Shibuya. Caroline was much less...subtle than her sister.

(He had a bruise somewhere around the level of his kidneys. Their boots were _vicious_.)

The route to the top was straightforward. They’d considered all the different areas they’d explored, and settled on a path that stuck to the outside of the castle as much as possible. The jumps to climb the tower were a little tricky, but it was easier than dealing with the shadow-guards inside, and none of them moved on until making sure everyone was caught up.

The one thing they hadn’t planned for was Kamoshida’s shadow catching them in the Treasure chamber, but despite the disgusting monster he turned into, they’d learned how to fight and work as a team while making their way through the castle. When he turned back into his human shape, he was a sniveling wreck, and they cornered him on the balcony as he clutched at the crown that was the core of his desires.

Ann listened to him make his excuses with a sneer. “I hope you’re scared,” she spat. “You’re looking at the same view Shiho did. Except that you turned the school into Hell for her, while you’ve been parading around like it’s a castle.” She took an aggressive step forward, pulling off her mask and letting Carmen materialize behind her. “So are you going to jump? Or would you rather I do it?” Fire blazed to life in her persona’s hands.

Akira, Ryuji, and Morgana exchanged a glance. They all could guess what would happen if Ann killed Kamoshida’s shadow, based on what Morgana had said. The real one would shut down, and that would _definitely_ kill him. But none of them objected, and Akira, assigned his role of leader by majority consensus, stepped up beside her.

“Joker?” Ann said quietly, prepared to defer to his word. It was a rush of power, but he shook his head.

“It’s your call, Panther,” he said, equally quiet. No one would know what they had done, but it would be Ann’s decision to live with the guilt.

Ann’s eyes blazed, and Carmen hurled the fireballs. They crashed into the doors on either side of Kamoshida in a burst of sparks, and the shadow cowered, throwing the crown towards them. Akira reached up and caught it with one hand as he smiled to himself. He was proud of Ann. He wouldn’t have judged her for her decision either way, but he was glad she hadn’t killed him.

“Go,” Ann ordered harshly. “Try to repent for your crimes. I doubt you’ll ever be able to make up for all the people you’ve hurt, but you can make the effort at least.”

The shadow dissolved into motes of light, and the Palace began to quake. They were forced to sprint for the entrance, almost losing Ryuji as he stumbled, but Ann turned back to haul him to his feet and they transferred back to the real world just as the towers began to collapse and the hallways caved in.

***

They ended up in the diner on Center Street, tucked away in a booth in the back corner with food and cold drinks as they examined the medal that Kamoshida’s crown had turned into. The diner was mostly empty due to the cold drizzle falling outside, so they weren’t worried about being overheard.

“I bet we can get a lot of money for this,” Ryuji exclaimed. “Enough to do something really special to celebrate, once we see how the change of heart goes!”

“We’ll have to see,” Morgana said from Akira’s bag. “Akira and I know somebody who will probably buy it.” He accepted a bit of water from the extra glass they’d ordered, rubbing his face with a paw.

“I’m just impressed you let that scumbag go,” Ryuji said, waving a fry at Ann. “I thought for sure you were gonna torch him.”

Ann stared into her drink. “I wanted to. God, I wanted to. He would have deserved it. But...it’s better if he admits his guilt. If he just dies, no one knows what he did except his victims, and that’s the end. Like this, he can spend the rest of his life repenting for all the pain he caused others, once the truth comes out. All that guilt, and the judgment of everyone around him… That will be a fate worse than death.”

None of the boys said anything, actually a bit scared of the fire in her eyes, and she looked between their mildly alarmed expressions. “What? It’s not like you tried to stop me. Especially you, Akira. You said it was my call. You were going to let me incinerate him if I wanted, but I picked this instead.”

“Kamoshida was more your fight than mine,” Akira said, his words measured, as if he were considering every single one. “He threatened me, but… There are worse things.” What was worse went unsaid. His new friends didn’t deserve any of the things that they had been through.

Ann looked to Ryuji. “What about you? He broke your leg. He ruined your life.”

“And he raped your best friend!” Ryuji snapped. Belatedly, he looked around to make sure no one was listening, and continued, quieter, “I hate him. I hate him so much. But this ain’t about who he hurt worst. I wouldn’t’ve killed him, but heck if I was getting in your way when you were spitting fire. You deserved to make your own decision about what to do with him.”

“I don’t think I actually could have killed him, no matter how angry I was. I’m just hoping the change of heart actually works,” Ann said. “If he just goes on to hurt more people...”

“Of course it’ll work, Lady Ann!” Morgana said loudly, and Akira was forced to shove him back into the bag as the waitress walked over to see if they needed anything else.

She looked at him suspiciously, and he hesitated before holding up one hand, fist tipped forward in imitation of a paw. “Nya?”

Ann covered her mouth, giggling, and the waitress rolled her eyes with amusement. “Anything else I can get you guys?”

“Just the check,” Ann said brightly.

When the waitress walked away again, Ryuji threw an arm around Akira with a grin. “Good thinking, dude.”

“That’s why he’s our leader,” Morgana said from inside the bag. “He thinks on his feet.”

Akira leaned into the arm around him with an embarrassed smile. He didn’t say anything, just basking in the feeling of having friends again. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve something good like this, after the string of bad luck he’d had, but he was going to cling to it with all of his power.

“Really, Akira, you’d make a good cat,” Ann commented, still giggling a little. “Your hair is so fluffy. If we can’t pet Morgana, can we pet you?”

Akira glanced at Morgana, who was staring at him with eyes that dared him to betray him like that, and deliberately leaned forward so Ann could get to his head. Ann reached across the table to run her fingers through his hair, and Morgana let out a weak, offended mewl.

“L-Lady Ann…”

Akira winked at him. Morgana hissed, and Akira learned that it was indeed possible for a cat to pout.

“Jeeze, it should be illegal to have hair this soft,” Ann said, and even Ryuji reached up curiously to pat his head. That was how the waitress found them, and Akira promptly sat back, tugging at his bangs and trying desperately not to turn red.

“Mr. Cat, I’m not sure how long ago you were turned into a human, but you’re doing a very good job,” the waitress teased, and thankfully Morgana’s offended yowl was covered by Ann and Ryuji bursting out laughing. Akira really did turn red then, but found himself laughing as well.

He’d been so afraid of coming to Tokyo, of trying to do all of this alone. But fate had dropped three good friends in his lap, and with them at his sides, now he felt like he could handle anything, even another crazy Palace. Maybe this year wasn't going to be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still doing some setup. I love my dumb kids, but yeesh. Ann really did almost torch Kamoshida. Next chapter, things start branching out, and we’ll see some reactions to the birth of the Phantom Thieves. ;)
> 
> There’s a comic somewhere of Ann petting Akira and discovering that it puts him to sleep, and of course now I can’t find it, but I love it. I’ve got a bit of a weakness for all of them being pretty physically affectionate, partly as a contrast to Akechi and partly just because god damn it game let me hug my teammates. Let me put my arm around my girlfriend. Let me comfort Futaba. I know that's a programming thing and not a character thing but jfc.
> 
> (...I didn’t use the Shibuya door unless I had to. X’’’’D The Velvet door has moved a bit, though, in the interest of anyone else with enough sensitivity not being able to see it from the main road if they’re wandering down Center Street. Mostly Akechi and Hamuko, honestly, as they’re the ones most likely to be in Shibuya. And Hamuko would 100% get in a fight with Caroline in public.)
> 
> Edit: Just cleaned up some wording here. Nothing major.


	4. May 7, 2016 - Without Grasping Yet

“Senpai, have you seen this?” Hamuko outright _flounced_ into the Shadow Operatives’ headquarters, brandishing her phone enthusiastically. “The Phantom Thieves have a website!”

Mitsuru sighed. “Yes, actually. There was a news report about it this morning. Those thieves and that teacher are all anyone’s been talking about this whole week, ever since the teacher confessed to all of those horrible things.”

The school in question, over in Aoyama-Ichome, had apparently tried to keep things quiet, but as soon as the police were brought in all bets were off. Kamoshida Suguru had insisted on turning himself in, and the news went wild over the sensational story of a former olympic medalist abusing his students so badly that one tried to kill herself. Mitsuru was frankly disgusted with the way reporters were hounding the school’s students, trying to find more juicy details, but the bizarre calling card that had heralded Kamoshida’s sudden confession meant that everyone was interested in learning more.

“Isn’t that such a romantic idea?” Hamuko said happily, stretching out on the sofa as she scrolled through the ‘Phan-site’. “Mysterious gentlemen thieves, dashingly stealing hearts to help those in need. It’s like something out of a light novel!” She waved the phone. “There’s already a ton of people asking for help on the forum. People really believe that the Phantom Thieves actually stole that guy’s heart.”

“Hamuko-chan, don’t tell me you’re getting hyped over nothing like everyone else,” Yukari called as she walked in. “It’s probably a bunch of kids staging it so they can stay anonymous.” She sat down next to Hamuko’s feet and grinned. “What do you think, Mitsuru-senpai? I think some kids finally got evidence of the abuse, and blackmailed him into confessing. They just did it with a bunch of theatrics.”

“That’s the most likely scenario,” Mitsuru said, still trying to finish the last of the paperwork that had piled up on her desk. “We should all know how dramatic high-schoolers can be.”

Yukari laughed. “Don’t we, though? Even just our little group was full of drama.”

“Half of that was Junpei, though,” Hamuko complained. “You can’t blame all of us for him being a goof.”

“Hey, if you and Minato would ever stop indulging his silly ‘Believe It or Don’t’ thing, we might actually get some peace,” Yukari countered, and Hamuko stuck her tongue out at her.

Fuuka hurried into the room as well, clutching her purse. “I’m sorry, there was a train delay. Am I late?”

“Nah, we’re just talking about the Phantom Thieves,” Yukari said. “Hamuko-chan thinks they’re cool~”

“They _are_ cool!”

Fuuka hummed thoughtfully. “It is exciting. People want something amazing to believe in, and they want to celebrate someone as terrible as that Kamoshida man being judged for his crimes. He can’t hurt any more students now.” She smiled. “The truly interesting thing will be to see whether the Phantom Thieves do anything else. Perhaps they will expose more injustice in their school in the future?”

“I bet they have special tools, and fancy disguises! Do you think that they snuck into Kamoshida’s apartment and stole the evidence from there?” Hamuko said excitedly.

Mitsuru stacked her paperwork and got up. “These are finished. Are we all good to go? You two can keep discussing the Phantom Thieves on the way to the train station.” The others grabbed their things, and as they all made their way to the elevator, Hamuko and Fuuka ended up in a lively discussion about different ways the Thieves could have broken into Kamoshida’s computer to snoop for evidence.

The four of them tried to go out at least once a month for a shopping trip and dinner when Yukari was in town, but nothing this exciting had ever been happening in the city before. Mitsuru hoped they would have a lot of opportunities to hear what other people thought of the Phantom Thieves. On the surface, nothing seemed to be wrong, but someone’s heart changing that suddenly…? Mitsuru had her suspicions. And they started and ended with a woman who had thought that changing hearts could be for the greater good.

Had someone gotten hold of that research? And if they had, what was their next move?

***

Elsewhere in the city, the Phantom Thieves were discussing their next move.

“Okay, so it’s settled,” Ann said, lounging in the passenger seat of the bus that Morgana had turned into. “Next available opportunity, we rent every Ghibli film we can find from the DVD store and spend the weekend marathoning them. Seriously, if none of you know why people picture cats turning into buses, you had a deprived childhood.”

“I haven’t seen Totoro since I was like five!” Ryuji complained from the middle seat. “I remember the other one, though, uh… The one with the kid that turns into a dragon.”

“That’s _Spirited Away_. That’s the only one I’ve seen,” Akira commented. He kept his eyes forward as he pulled the bus around a corner and braked, watching a pair of hulking shadows ahead of them. As Ann complained that obviously _Howl’s Moving Castle_ was the best Ghibli movie, the Thieves’ leader asked quietly, “Morgana?”

“Hm? What is it?” the bus replied, which was strange, but not any stranger than anything else they’d seen.

Akira frowned as the shadows lumbered around a corner and he started driving again. “These shadows aren’t people, right? They’re like the ones in Kamoshida’s Palace.”

“That’s right. My memory’s fuzzy, but these are something like fragments of consciousness, not any specific person.” Morgana’s voice was still confident, despite him all-but blatantly admitting that he wasn’t sure.

He’d called this place ‘Mementos’, an area where people without individual Palaces had one collective Palace. The twisted subway gave Akira a vaguely ominous feeling, but it was interesting to know they could pull off smaller changes of heart this way. They had already changed the heart of a stalker that had shown up on Mishima’s ‘Phan-site’ and taken what seemed to be a ‘bud’ of a Treasure. If left alone, it could have bloomed into a full-blown Palace, but they’d sent the man on his way with a new outlook instead.

Now they were exploring further down, in a new area that had opened. Morgana was convinced that his memories would come back if they could figure out what was at the bottom of Mementos, plus it was good practice for fights. And there was a lot of junk that the recycling centers would probably pay good money for.

“Joker,” Ryuji said, leaning forward over the seat. “It’s gettin’ late. Should we turn back for today?”

“I can see the next platform up ahead,” Akira said over his shoulder, and he floored it past a shadow. He knew they were tired, so he was trying to avoid as many battles as he could. “Lets just take a look at the next floor, then we’ll go back up.”

“Got it, leader,” Ann said, giving him a thumbs up, and Ryuji nodded. When they pulled into the platform, everyone piled out, and Morgana turned back into his usual shape. Together, they walked down the broken escalator to the next floor, but Akira stopped at the bottom in surprise, causing the others to run into his back.

It was a train stop. A glass rest area filled with seats took up most of the small space, and behind it, they could see another escalator leading downwards into the dark.

“Oh, this is good!” Morgana said excitedly. “If there are more floors like this, we can use them to take a break when we start exploring deeper!”

“What’s that?” Ryuji asked, pointing. There was something on the floor in the rest area, and when Ann went over to pick it up, it turned out to be a threadbare fleece blanket with a faded pattern of Featherman masks on it. Ryuji shoved his hands in his pockets. “How’d that get here? Does that mean there’s someone else down here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ann said, folding it up. “The door was sealed until an hour ago. How would someone get past that? It probably fell down here like all the other junk we’ve been picking up.” She waved absently at the duffle bag full of bits and pieces that they’d been taking turns carrying. “Let’s leave it here. It might come in handy if we ever have to stop for a long time, and I don’t think shadows will get to this floor and take it.” She set it on the seat closest to the door and turned to survey the rest of the space. On the other side of the tracks, human-form shadows waited for the train, standing around in orderly lines. “I wonder where they’re all going.”

“I guess we’ll find out when we get to the bottom,” Akira said with a shrug. “We should head back for today, though. This is the best stopping point we’re going to get.”

_Something is strange._

“Arsène?” Akira murmured, low enough that the others couldn’t hear as Ann went to get the duffle from Ryuji. “What is it?”

_An unfamiliar presence has seeped into this space. Something was here._

“Is there another person down here, then?” Akira asked softly, and Arsène chuckled in the back of his mind.

 _I do not know anything that you have no knowledge of yourself, little one. We are one and the same, if you recall._ His persona’s voice was fond, and Akira shook his head.

“Right, right. I know.” He led the way back upstairs, navigating expertly through the twisting tunnels to return them to the exit point on the surface. Once they shifted back to the station, Akira flicked through the menu on the meta-nav. “Guys, it looks like the rest area and the floor that had the door can be entrance points now, if we set it before we activate the nav.”

“That’ll come in handy. I’d rather not have to ride down all those floors every time,” Ryuji said, stretching. “Those ain’t exactly the most comfortable seats.”

“You can ride on the _roof_ next time, then,” Morgana hissed from Akira’s shoulder, and Akira reached up, forcing Morgana to duck back into the bag to avoid the attempted petting.

The Phantom Thieves went their separate ways, waving goodbye, and Akira headed for the platform that would take him back to Yongen. Sojiro was right on the verge of letting him go wherever he wanted in the evenings, so he was determined to stick to his curfew as closely as possible. Turns out, the grumpy barista was surprisingly soft-hearted when he didn’t think he was dealing with a violent delinquent. It was finally starting to feel a little less like he’d been stuffed upstairs to be forgotten.

***

Girls’ Night Out ended up being just as fun as usual, even with all the buzz about the Phantom Thieves distracting literally everyone. Mitsuru, at least, had catalogued that the general response to the Thieves was a positive one. People liked the idea of horrible criminals confessing their guilt, which certainly wasn’t something she could complain about either. It was just the method that was bothering her.

But that was something to worry about another time. They’d switched topics after leaving the restaurant, now engaged in a lively discussion about the changes that had been implemented in the newest season of Featherman. Yukari was acting as a writer this time around, and they were going in a new direction.

“We got a really positive audience response to switching back to Black Condor and White Swallow when Victory premiered,” Yukari said. “The classic names really resonate with people. But they seemed to like last season when we had mostly new characters, too. So we’re hoping that another new set this season will go over just as well.”

“The problem with Neo was that they seemed to be replacing fan-favorites while leaving the rest alone,” Mitsuru said dryly. “Why change from Black Condor to Black Falcon for no reason? And Yellow Owl was plenty; adding ‘White Horned Owl’ was just needlessly confusing when White Swallow was perfectly fine. At least for Advent they introduced an all-new set to follow Pink Argus instead of just replacing one or two and throwing off the dynamic.”

Yukari grinned. It was always funny to listen to Mitsuru get really into Featherman discussions. “It’s a fully new set this time. I really hope it goes well, especially since we’ve added a character last-minute.”

“Oh, is that Gold Osprey? I remember seeing the announcement,” Fuuka said.

“Yeah, it is,” Yukari replied. “After the initial reveal, people were really disappointed that there was no Feather White this time, but hopefully they take to this version as well as they did Feather Silver Peregrin.”

Hamuko had been staring at something across the walkway as they made their way through the station, and finally groaned with disappointment and turned back to the group. “I don’t think he’ll be able to top White Swallow as my favorite. No offense, Yukari-chan.”

“None taken. What were you groaning about, though?”

Hamuko pointed at the stairs to one of the other platforms. “There was a guy with a cat in his bag, and I was gonna ask him if I could pet it, but he changed direction to go to a different train.”

Mitsuru tried and failed to hide a smile. “Shinjiro is the only thing stopping you from having four or five cats already, isn’t he? My goodness, between you and Yu-kun, you’d adopt every cat in Tokyo if you could.”

“I’m not that bad!” Hamuko pouted, and Yukari wrapped an arm around her.

“Yes, you are. Sorry, Hamuko-chan.”

Hamuko mock-pouted, then she whined with disappointment again. “Aw, man, he was wearing the uniform from that Shujin place, too! We could have asked him what he thought of the Phantom Thieves!”

“I’m sure he’s getting quite enough of that from the press and everyone else,” Mitsuru scolded good-naturedly. “Come on, we’re going to be late for our karaoke reservation, at this rate.”

The quartet of girls continued on their way, oblivious to how close they’d been to one of the objects of their discussion. But there was karaoke to be done, and for now, all they could do about the Phantom Thieves was see if they did anything more in the future.

After all, if this was just a one-time thing, there was nothing to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Interrogation Day! :P Hamuko is very much onboard with all this Thieves hype.
> 
> I watched a lot of Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers as a kid. So anytime I have to talk about Featherman, expect as many references as I can manage. XDDD
> 
> Off-topic, do you think it’s possible to trap a dreamer in the Velvet Room? Like, it’s sort of implied that Igor can call the Wild Cards when he needs to tell them something, and Yald can call Akira, too, but does he have to send them back? Or could he have just kept Akira at any point, and his body back in the real world would just be stuck asleep? Because that’s kind of a terrifying thought. This is the kind of stuff I'm thinking about when I'm trying to write normal discussions about Featherman. Help me.
> 
> Edit: Fixed some wording, and changed the Featherman discussion to fit better into how I laid out my Featherman notes, so everything will eventually be consistent. ;) I'm still annoyed one of Goro's costumes wasn't a Featherman outfit. I'd have taken that over the butler one, honestly.


	5. May 19, 2016 - First Impressions

The metaverse had a way of making him feel untouchable. It was a world that only he could access, after all. Or, at least, it had been. Goro had returned to Mementos a week ago to break another shadow, and not only was the door between Qimranut and Aiyatsbus standing open permanently, when he’d entered the safe floor in Aiyatsbus, he found his blanket, folded neatly on the seats of the rest stop.

Neither of those things by themselves would be a problem, normally. He was grateful, if he was being honest, that there was one less section of train tracks he had to run, since the door being open meant that now he could use the nav to jump downwards as well as up. But he knew for sure that he’d tossed the blanket aside carelessly last time he had been there, because he’d accidentally overslept. Shadows didn’t enter this floor, and he couldn’t picture a shadow that would bother to fold up his blanket.

The only explanation was that someone else had been in Mementos, and Goro’s mind went immediately to the trickster he’d been warned about. There hadn’t been any other signs of someone else’s presence, but it made him anxious, and he’d staked out the entrance to Mementos every evening for almost the entire week, hoping to catch a glimpse of his adversary.

In the end, though, it was pure chance that led him to the encounter. Or perhaps fate, if the trickster was ‘destined’ to oppose him.

The artist Madarame Ichiryusai’s latest gallery show was coming up at the end of the month, and Shido wanted Goro to give his shadow a little nudge, a reminder of the funding that he expected after the show’s inevitable success. Goro didn’t like Madarame much. He didn’t like any of Shido’s associates and underlings, but Madarame was a specific kind of evil. He took care of fledgling artists, offered them a home and a place to nurture their talents, only to steal their work for himself. It was abusive, pure and simple, and some days Goro really wanted to just drive the man mad and watch him crumble. Giving someone a home only for your own personal gain was a sore spot for him, after all. But he did his job, slipping through the halls of the grand museum Palace as he looked for Madarame himself. And it was when he reached the courtyard leading to the inner building that he saw them.

Three people and some sort of tiny shadow, standing in front of the massive laser trap that blocked off the inner building. Goro took cover and watched them curiously, his knight’s outfit blending into the shadowy corner he’d found.

“If it can only be turned off from the inside, we’re not gettin’ through here,” the one in the skull mask said. “We can’t be stuck after all this. What do we do, Mona?”

“There’s a locked door in Madarame’s house with the same pattern on it,” the tiny shadow replied. “We have to change his cognition, so that he perceives the security as broken. We have to get that door open!”

_Mona,_ Goro thought to himself, committing the name to memory. He kept listening as they talked, throwing out ideas and rejecting them in short order. He couldn’t see the girl’s face, though she had blonde pigtails and was apparently called ‘Panther’. The first boy to speak was ‘Skull’. And then the tiny shadow glanced at the last boy, who had been standing there silently with his hands in his pockets.

“What do you think, Joker? You’re our leader, after all.”

Goro’s eyes widened as Joker smirked. “I have an idea, but I’ll explain once we’re out of here. I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“Ugh.” Skull groaned. “All right, fine. I guess we’re done for today. You guys wanna stop for food on the way home, or…?”

They headed back towards the main museum building, leaving their unknown observer to sit quietly in his hiding place, trying to process.

_Joker._ There was no doubt in his mind that this was the trickster. His foe, his opponent, was the leader of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. Of _course_ he was.

He wasn’t sure what they’d been talking about, changing a target’s cognition. Apparently they were incompetent; it took extremely careful maneuvering, but the lasers weren’t impossible. Although… They’d mentioned a locked door in the real world. Goro knew which one they were talking about; the shadow had explained it to him, under threat of course, on a prior visit. Perhaps because he knew what was contained within already, it was easier for him to get through the equivalent ‘door’ in the Palace?

He shook his head. That wasn’t important. What was important was that he’d found the Phantom Thieves and confirmed that they were real, and they had somehow used the metaverse to engineer Kamoshida Suguru’s confession. Now he just had to identify them in the real world, and he could figure out how to stop them. They were _idiots_ , messing with things they most likely didn’t understand. There had to be some downside to their ‘change of heart’. There was no way there was a method that left no damage behind.

...there couldn’t be…otherwise...

He wouldn’t say anything to Shido, yet. It might be a moot point anyway if they were too stupid to get through the laser trap. In the meantime, he’d work on tracking them down in the real world, and if Madarame happened to go down in the meantime… Well.

Goro certainly wouldn’t regret seeing him grovel after what he’d done to the people he’d ‘mentored’, even if the confessions were immoral.

***

After just barely failing the Big Bang Burger Challenge and earning several looks of mildly-nauseated incredulity from his friends and other patrons alike, Akira found himself wandering the underground mall, too restless to go home yet. Fighting in the metaverse left him physically tired but mentally wide-awake, though food helped counteract the fatigue.

“I’m kind of surprised Ann agreed to the whole nude modeling thing,” he said, glancing at Morgana, whose head was sticking out of his bag.

Morgana hissed quietly. “I can’t believe that jerk Yusuke would ask such a thing. The nerve of him!”

Akira sighed. “It’s our only option at this point. I really don’t think he has any bad intentions. You just have to make sure you can get that door open, and we need to figure out a day that we’re all available before the deadline. Ryuji’s got that thing with his mom the next two days, and Ann has a photoshoot after that…”

“We’ll get it done. You do have to keep up your normal lives, so that no one gets suspicious,” Morgana reminded him, and Akira nodded, wandering over and picking up the part-time job ads.

He flipped through the magazine idly. Selling the medal had left them with a bit of a profit, even after their extravagant banquet at the Wilton. But that money was so they could keep upgrading their guns and weapons, along with everything they could make from Mementos and Palaces. Mementos was definitely profitable, but it wasn’t always reasonable to run off to the demented subway to talk shadows out of their money or pick up loose scraps. 

He’d learned quickly, though, what kind of things they needed to grab, and that helped. Recycling centers gave out quite a bit of money for decent scraps. Jewelry stores and pawn shops appreciated bits of precious metals, which could be melted back down or sold as-is. Other items went to secondhand stores, which didn’t pay as much but asked less questions. Iwai occasionally bought his entire haul, presumably to turn around a profit for himself. The only things he hadn’t figured out how to sell without suspicion were the gemstones they found sometimes, because he hadn’t worked up the guts to show them to Iwai. Real gemstones were harder to explain than old gold coins or copper scraps, so those remained in a pouch, tucked away in his desk. And the rest of the things they found served as good materials for infiltration tools. It all helped the Thieves.

But Akira had barely any money of his own, and maybe Sojiro would stop being so gruff if he could show he was responsible enough to hold down a job.

He paused when a help-wanted ad caught his eye, skimming the details quickly. A flower shop in the mall was looking for part-time help. He felt Morgana’s paws bracing on his shoulder, and the cat said curiously, “A flower shop? Huh… For some reason, I could see you working in a flower shop. Are you going to call them?”

“I think so,” Akira said. “I don’t have a lot of spending money, and the stuff from the medal is for the team. And it could be...nice.” He didn’t have a lot of things that were just nice.

***

The woman who answered the phone was named Hanasaki Hikari, and she told him that he could come right over. Rafflesia was in the mall, so it wasn’t out of his way at all, and when he got there, she shook his hand, looking him up and down.

“Kurusu-kun, right? It’s nice to meet you. You can call me Hikari.” She was in her twenties, bright and bubbly. “Why do you want to work in the flower shop? I’ve been trying to find part-time help for ages and no one is biting.”

Akira shrugged. “I like flowers. I’ve been studying flower language since I was little.” He gestured at the plant nutrients on a shelf to one side, adding in a joking tone, “I’m also hoping I’ll learn how to bring that half-dead plant in my room back to life.”

Hanasaki smiled. “I’m sure we can figure something out for your plant. But flower language? That’s perfect. We get customers asking for specific meanings sometimes. Do you mind if I give you a test?”

Akira nodded, and she considered for a moment before asking, “What sort of bouquet would you give a friend, to tell them that you’re there for them?”

Akira looked over the selection of flowers, wandering around the tiny shop to check all of the options before making his choice. “Well, yellow roses for friendship,” he began, gathering up five of them in a loose bundle. “And then…”

A memory came to mind unbidden, of dark hair and eyes and a kind smile, the reason he’d bothered to learn more about flower language in the first place. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d reached for a few white flowers, arranging them around the roses and accenting them with smaller purple ones. “Violets for loyalty, and white jasmine for joy…” he said slowly. “To tell them that I’ll stand by them, and that I want them to be happy.”

_I want you to be happy_. Was that why he’d been given jasmine, years ago? He wondered what that man would think of everything that had happened since then.

He presented the bouquet to Hanasaki, who took it with a delighted smile. “You’re hired! You seem like you’ll be a wonderful employee, Kurusu-kun. I can offer a flexible schedule, so you can come in whenever you have the time.”

“That would be perfect,” Akira said, unable to believe how well this was working out. “Thank you so much.”

“Let me show you around the shop really quick, and then if you want to stay, you can work your first shift now if you want.” She led him around, pointing out where all the different supplies for wrapping the bouquets were and explaining how to work the register. Akira followed eagerly, leaving his bag with Morgana on the shelf as he investigated the different ribbons and colored cellophane. Hanasaki got him an apron and let him take his place by the door, and the few customers that trickled in seemed to appreciate his soft-spoken demeanor and quick fingers as he assembled the bouquets.

He left the shop at the end of the night with a content feeling and an extra three thousand yen in his pocket, and Morgana climbed back out of the bag onto his shoulder.

“You’re so kind working with those customers,” he commented, and Akira nodded.

“This seems like a nice place to work. And now I’ve got money for more Big Bang Challenges,” he joked, and Morgana rolled his eyes and rubbed against the side of his head.

“We should head home. You probably need to sleep. It’s been a long day,” the cat said.

Akira laughed, heading for the station. “Yes, mom. Whatever you say~”

It should probably be depressing that having his cat roommate mother him was more mothering than he’d gotten in ages, but Akira didn’t dwell on it. They had a plan, he had a new job, everything was going well. The Phantom Thieves were untouchable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, to those of you that celebrate! ^_^
> 
> **Me:** Okay, Li, this is an important chapter, Goro’s having a moment and the flower shop is your favorite part-time job. Focus. It’s time for a callback.  
>  **Also me:** *writes 700 words of RANK 4, which isn’t for ages but is already half-done, plus more stuff from the ending*
> 
> In all seriousness, though, what possesses Iwai to buy all those card shufflers and ugly sculptures and broken mugs and cracked piggy banks and whatever other weird shit we pick up? Scrap metal I can understand, but the ten pairs of loaded dice I nicked from the casino? Really? (I know, I know, game mechanics, but still. XD)
> 
> In two chapters, it will be June 11th.  
> Two roads diverge in an attic, and I, I’ll take the one less traveled by.  
> And that will make all the difference. ;)
> 
> Edit: Just some wording changes here, and a tiny clarification about Mementos.


	6. June 6, 2016 - Blue Battlefield

News of Madarame’s change of heart swept across the country, leaving art lovers and Phantom Thieves enthusiasts alike reeling from shock. He’d admitted to his abuses of his pupils on live TV, and had been arrested shortly after for felony fraud, considering how many fake copies of the Sayuri he’d tricked people into buying over the years. And the Phantom Thieves became a household name, now that they could show responsibility for _two_ monsters admitting to their crimes.

The news had been on constantly at the Iwatodai dorm since the story first broke, and even when they were at the training facility, a TV was still on in the background, just in case there was something new. Not that Minato was paying attention right that second. He was more absorbed in making sure his boyfriend didn’t get crushed.

“Come on, you’re faster than that!” he shouted from the bleachers, though there was an undercurrent of amusement in his voice as Ryoji gave up on proper form and sprinted across the room away from Elizabeth. She was brandishing a battleaxe as if it were no heavier than a practice sword, even though it probably weighed more than she did. Ken was a better match for her, with the length granted by his spear, but Ken was at school and that meant Ryoji was the sacrifice instead.

“You get down here and fight her, then, since you’re so good at it!” Ryoji shouted as he dodged another swing, jumping and pushing off the wall to reverse directions and sail past Elizabeth’s head. He ducked and rolled when he hit the ground, his sword clattering against the floor.

She spun to face him, axe slamming down and barely missing his extended arm. “You’re quite slippery, Ryoji-san, but it will not help you in the end. You cannot run forever!”

Ryoji launched himself to one side, lashing out with the sword and catching her in the ankle with the guarded edge, which caused her to stumble and allowed him to put some proper distance between them. He was off his game today; he didn’t usually spend so much time dodging around her. “I won’t need to run forever if you’d stop swinging that monstrosity for two seconds!”

Minato laughed. They’d all agreed that in the absence of being able to fight with the compendiums, the Velvet attendants needed to learn to defend themselves with conventional weapons. Lavenza had been learning archery with Nanako before everything happened, but the others had needed to try out a few things before settling on their choices. Margaret had chosen a rapier, like Mitsuru, Theodore favored conventional swords and pistols, and Elizabeth, obviously, had picked the battleaxe. Practice bouts were very interesting with the variety of specializations, though it wasn’t much different from fighting alongside the Investigation Team. Or Baofu. Minato still wasn’t sure how he fought with coins, of all things, even though it only worked properly in meta-space.

“I think we can safely say he’s losing if he’s running away,” Naoya commented from where he was sitting beside Minato. Next to him, Kei was watching with interest. The two older persona-users didn’t visit often, but Naoya had been helping off and on with combat lessons, and Kei had tagged along to observe.

“He might turn the tables,” Minato said, but it didn’t seem likely, as Ryoji just barely managed to block a downward swing of the axe that would have crushed a normal person. Minato had to apply Heat Riser to anyone sparring with the siblings just so they could stand on equal footing physically, but it didn’t stop them from trying. Mitsuru and Margaret had quite a rivalry going, when Mitsuru could spare the time to come visit.

“Okay, okay, I give up!” Ryoji wailed as Elizabeth applied more pressure, getting the axe a little too close to his head for comfort, even with the edges guarded. “Jeeze, Liz, you play to win!”

Elizabeth giggled. “Of course I do. It’s no fun otherwise.” She hefted the axe up to rest on her shoulder, offering him a hand up from where he’d been backed against the wall. “Shall we get some Second Maid and let my brother have his turn?”

Ryoji accepted the hand, and they headed for the cooler over by the bleachers as Theodore and Naoya hopped down to grab their swords and take their places. Minato cast Heat Riser on the other Wild Card, and Margaret counted them down to begin the match.

“Have you ever taken any of them to the doctor?” Kei asked Minato curiously. “They’re leaps and bounds ahead of normal humans physically. It would be interesting to know for sure how human they really are.”

“We’ve done a few tests, but no, I’ve never taken them to a real doctor,” Minato said. “No offense, Nanjo-san, but we’ve never been concerned with their humanity. As long as they don’t get anything worse than a cold, I’m not going to worry about it.”

Kei nodded. “I didn’t mean to imply anything by asking. It was merely curiosity. It’s still a little strange to see them living so easily in reality.”

Minato smiled a bit. “It’s taken a lot to get them to this point. Even something as simple as errands was a challenge when we started.” Everything had been strange at first. Grocery stores, trains...the whole world was weird when you weren’t used to it. Especially when you’d never had to worry about being hungry or tired before. But they’d managed, and Minato had promised never to tell anyone about Elizabeth accidentally fainting in the mall because she'd neglected to eat.

As they watched Naoya and Theodore fight, much more evenly matched in terms of weaponry, Kei continued, “Have you been in contact with Kirijo-san?”

“Yeah. She’s getting kind of agitated about this whole Phantom Thieves thing, because of that scientist you guys talked to.” Minato kicked his feet against the floor, sounding uncertain. “She seems like she’s afraid something bad’s going to happen. I’m just wondering if one of these Thieves is the Trickster that Igor mentioned.”

“Isshiki Wakaba’s research had the potential to be very dangerous, even if she refused to see it,” Kei said. “Not to speak ill of the dead, but the power to forcibly change someone’s mental state isn’t something that can be taken lightly, even if these phantom thieves seem to be using it for good. If that’s what they’re doing. We don’t have any proof of their methods, and without access to meta-space so that we can check…”

Minato perked up. “About that…”

Kei shook his head. “I told you, we were working from scraps as it was. Even a whole team of scientists is going to take time.”

“That was almost _two years ago_ , Nanjo-san.”

“And you’re lucky that we’ve made any progress at all. Please be patient. If we were to make a mistake, we could make things _worse_.”

“I know…” Minato sighed. Down on the floor, blades clashed and whirled, and he absentmindedly re-cast Heat Riser to extend the effect. “Are there any leads on what might have happened to Isshiki-san’s research? Didn’t she have bodyguards or something? Mitsuru-senpai said that when you met with her, she came with someone else.”

“A PSIA agent named Sakura Sojiro. But if the PSIA was involved, there’s not going to be any records.” Kei folded his arms. “The organization itself will have no documentation, and Sakura-san himself has left them. My people tracked him down, but he runs a cafe now and takes care of Isshiki-san’s daughter. There’s been no communication between him and anyone still under government employ since Isshiki-san’s death, when he resigned. I’m concerned about making contact and potentially dredging up something unpleasant, especially with the child around, when I have no reason to believe he was involved with the research himself. I’ve told Kirijo-san as much.”

“That’s fair, I guess…” Minato said softly. It was disappointing, but Kei had a point. Sakura-san was a normal person now, living a normal life. They didn’t need to drag anyone else into whatever mess this was unnecessarily.

There was a clatter of metal as Naoya successfully disarmed Theodore, and the two of them shook hands. “Your footwork’s improved so much since we started doing this,” Naoya praised. “I know it hasn’t been easy, having to learn in bits from all of us, but you guys are doing really great.”

Theodore was much less overwhelmed by the praise than he would have been two years ago, but he still couldn’t stop smiling. “You’ve all been excellent teachers. I have no complaints.”

As they left the floor, Minato pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his own sword, nodding to Kei. “Guess it’s my turn, since Mitsuru-senpai’s not here. But I want a proper update on the project later. I know you have to have brought notes with you.”

“I’m going to tell Kirijo-san that her lieutenant is being demanding,” Kei mocked good-naturedly, but nodded. “I have the diagrams and charts of where we’re at so far. We can go over them before dinner, if you would prefer.”

“Perfect.” Minato climbed down the bleachers to take his place in front of Margaret. He lifted his sword, settling into a fighting stance. “Don’t know if you could hear us, but Nanjo-san’s got more progress notes for us later.”

“Ah, excellent,” Margaret flashed him a genuine smile. “That should cheer you up after your defeat here.”

“Careful, Margaret. Don’t jinx yourself.” He lifted a hand, letting Heat Riser surge through him, and tossed his bangs from his eyes. “On three. One…”

“Two…”

“Three!” They darted towards each other, weapons at the ready. Elizabeth was unpredictable, but Margaret was just straight-up _strong_ , and Minato knew he was in for a workout. Swords clashed, Ryoji and Elizabeth were cheering, and somewhere in the back of his mind Minato acknowledged that he was going to miss this when the siblings were finally able to go home. They would still be able to spend time together, of course, but having them around permanently had been nice, like what Minato imagined growing up with a big family might have been like, instead of just him and Pharos doing their best to cope.

He ducked under Margaret’s rapier, practically dancing around her as he struck with his own sword. She blocked it, and he kicked high at her head. When that missed as well, he dodged out of reach, cartwheeling back before she could retaliate. He was lighter on his feet than she was, but in terms of reaction times, she was just a touch faster.

Up in the bleachers, Theodore excused himself to practice in the shooting range, and Elizabeth flopped down beside Naoya, Ryoji, and Kei, her battleaxe safely discarded to one side. “Did I hear you say that progress is being made on your project, Nanjo-san?”

Kei nodded. “Not much, but a little. Replicating the systems is taking far longer than we thought, and we’re trying to contain elements of both variations.”

“Any progress is good progress. All we can do is keep moving forward on our own,” Naoya commented, earning a confused look from both Ryoji and Elizabeth. “If there’s one thing that I’ve learned in the past two years, it’s not to expect any more help.”

Elizabeth hesitated. “Naoya-san...”

Naoya sighed. “Not to be disrespectful, Elizabeth, but… I know he can’t help us, and that we’re capable of handling this on our own, but he hasn’t even acknowledged the situation, either. Look at what’s happened to his chosen and his attendants, and all we’ve gotten is silence. Is it not worth it, if it’s not part of a game?”

Elizabeth just bit her lip, and Ryoji glanced at Kei, who said, “He has a point. Looking back, it was good of him to guide us at the time, but it’s hard not to be a bit resentful, knowing now that it was all just part of the game he was playing. Especially with how close the world came to ending because of it.”

Especially because the world _had_ ended, but Naoya didn’t need to know that.

“I…” Elizabeth swallowed hard. She’d known on some level that their older guests hadn’t come through their trials unscathed. She just hadn’t expected it to resonate quite so much. “I, too, wish that he had not abandoned us. That may not be what it is, but it is what it feels like, and I have learned in my time with all of you that perception is a force that is not to be underestimated.” She’d never considered it strange that he was never around, but after spending time with all of their human friends, her perspective was shifting.

On the floor, Minato and Margaret called a draw, hunched over with exhaustion from the intensity of their bout. They climbed back up into the bleachers, looking between the four still sitting there in confusion. “What’s wrong? Why do you look so melancholy?”

“We were discussing Ryoji-kun’s devastating loss,” Elizabeth chirped, and Ryoji’s mouth fell open.

“Hey!”

Minato scooted up to sit beside him, leaning on his shoulder with a yawn. “It’s okay. I didn’t win either.”

Ryoji spluttered. “That’s not the point at all!” But he wrapped an arm around Minato, resting his cheek on the top of his head. “I guess we should all go shower and grab Theodore so we can head back and look at the notes, then.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Naoya got to his feet, and the rest of them followed. Ryoji slipped his hand into Minato’s, holding on tightly as they headed out. He could only hope that Kei’s work was going to succeed in the end. Otherwise, hoping that the Trickster was involved with the Phantom Thieves seemed like the best option they had.

And unfortunately, hope probably wasn’t going to be enough on its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good thing Hope isn’t on his own, then, huh? ^_^
> 
> I can picture the adults being a little annoyed that Philemon, after being so helpful in P1, has basically abandoned these kids in the later games. Especially since some of them at the time were even younger than Naoya and Co. were. Double especially because Minato was going to _die_ if things hadn’t changed. And triple especially because I can’t see them being happy to know that everything from their generation was part of a giant game that Philemon was complicit with.
> 
> (I finally picked up PQ again after leaving it by the wayside to play BotW and P5, and god damn going back to Q’s mechanics after 5 is annoying. Just give me my one Wild Card. X’D Plus the Inaba Pride Exhibit might be the worst dungeon I’ve ever had to do. If this isn’t the last torch puzzle, I’m gonna scream.)
> 
> Edit: Just some wording and small details, and adding a tiny bit to Minato's fighting style. I've seen the video where he's Sho's fever partner in DMN, and wow I love a good dance-fight. <3


	7. June 11, 2016 - Butterfly

There was absolutely no reason Akira should be nervous about having his friends over to his attic. They all knew he lived above a cafe; they just hadn’t been there yet. For some reason, though, he was anxious about what they would think, what Sojiro would say, all of it. But Yusuke needed a place to stay the night, Ann had suggested all of them staying over and making a sleepover of it, and everyone seemed so enthusiastic that Akira couldn’t bear to say no.

So among the bustle of the after-school crowd, Akira led them all to the train to Yongen-Jaya, and in what felt like no time at all they were filing through the door of Leblanc. Sojiro looked up from his crossword, and his eyebrows went up at the sight of not just Akira, but three other kids as well.

“Are these your friends?” he asked.

Akira nodded awkwardly. Fortunately, Ann noticed the way he shrunk a little and stepped up with a big smile. “Hello, sir! I’m Takamaki Ann. Akira invited us over to hang out and do movie night.”

Ryuji and Yusuke introduced themselves as well, and Sojiro looked them over appraisingly. “Well, that’s fine. I’m Sakura Sojiro, but people just call me Boss. Just don’t be too loud; I do still have customers.”

Yusuke glanced at the single customer in the booth closest to the TV, but before he could say anything Ann was pushing him towards the stairs. “Thank you, Boss!”

Akira led the way into the attic, setting his bag down on the table by the stairs as the rest of the Thieves trailed in behind him. Ryuji looked around with wide eyes, exclaiming, “Your room’s huge! Wow, Akira, this is great.”

“You’ve got all of this space to yourself?” Ann asked, slipping her shoes off and going over to look at the desk.

“I live here too!” Morgana objected, and Yusuke just shrugged.

“You don’t take up much space, Morgana,” he said, then glanced at Akira and continued, “This place does have a sort of rough charm to it, Akira. You fit very well here, though it doesn’t appear that you have many personal belongings.”

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I haven’t been here very long, and things have been busy.” He found himself relaxing, though, as his friends clearly weren’t weirded out by his living arrangements. He wasn’t sure why he’d even been worried in the first place; he knew they wouldn’t judge him, but he still couldn’t help the underlying fear of making some sort of mistake. “Speaking of things being busy, we’ve got something to talk about right?”

“Right! We do still have to talk about that.” Ann grabbed the desk chair and the one by the end of the bed for her and Ryuji, Yusuke took the couch, and Akira flopped on the bed with Morgana after cracking open the window in the hopes of attracting a breeze. Once they were settled, they were very clearly in meeting mode, and Ryuji spoke first.

“So…” he said. “Akechi. The Pancake Prince knows about the metaverse.”

They’d gone on a two-day field trip to the TV station, and while there, they’d had a brief encounter in the hallway with Tokyo’s most popular young celebrity. Normally, that wouldn’t be a big deal, even with how famous he apparently was, but all of them had noticed something strange, and it was finally time to discuss it.

Ann snorted. “‘Pancake Prince’, huh? That’s appropriate. He doesn’t even realize he made a mistake, does he? He didn’t know it was Morgana talking.” She grinned. “We’re really lucky; now we know that he’s involved even though he keeps denouncing us.”

“I’m sorry, who is Akechi, and why does he know about the metaverse?” Yusuke asked, and they all jumped, having forgotten for a moment that Yusuke hadn’t gone to the TV station with them.

Ryuji shrugged. “Akechi Goro, that stupid ‘Detective Prince’ that’s been on TV a lot. He talks a good game about the Phantom Thieves bein’ criminals, but he heard Morgana mention pancakes and brought it up in the hallway when he saw us, so he’s probably a persona-user like us.”

“He must have overheard from around the corner, because he got all confused when none of us knew why he’d just started asking about pancakes out of nowhere,” Ann added. “It was kind of funny, actually. He got sort of flustered.”

“...I wonder if he actually likes pancakes,” Akira mused, and Ryuji nudged his shoulder.

“Dude, that’s not the important part! He knows about the metaverse; he could be major trouble!”

Morgana braced his paws on Akira’s thigh to make himself taller. “That’s not the only problem. The only way his cognition would have changed to allow him to hear me in reality is if he saw me talking in the metaverse. That means he’s seen the Phantom Thieves.”

There was silence for a minute as they all processed that, then Ann blurted, “Does that mean he knows who we are?!”

“We’re in costume while we’re over there, and we’ve got masks. It’s fine, right?” Ryuji said, sounding more like he was trying to reassure himself than genuinely asking.

“It is a bit concerning. He is a renowned detective, after all,” Yusuke pointed out. “If he were to use things that he may have observed in the metaverse, it’s quite possible that he could track us down in reality.”

Morgana kneaded at Akira’s leg, agitated. “We need to find out what he knows, then. Quickly.” He looked up at Akira, who’d been quiet as they’d collectively freaked out. “What do you think, Leader?”

Akira considered it. Akechi, even without the possibility that he could ruin them all with a few well-placed deductions, had caught Akira’s attention. When Akira had been chosen to speak about the Phantom Thieves during the show taping, he’d spoken honestly, and said the Thieves were doing more than the police in terms of uncovering corruption. The Detective Prince had disagreed. He thought changing hearts was immoral. But he hadn’t condemned Akira for standing up for the Phantom Thieves. He’d even approached him afterwards to say he hoped they could speak again. Akechi Goro, media darling and pleasant idol to the city of Tokyo, was the first influential person that had listened to Akira’s honest opinion and hadn’t berated him or rejected him. 

That carried a lot of weight, that someone so famous thought he was worth listening to.

“Dude, Akira, are you still with us?” Ryuji’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Akira nodded.

“He’s already said he wants to talk to me again. Apparently because he’s not used to people disagreeing with him in public,” he said, keeping his tone light. “I’ll try to get close to him and see if I can pick up on what he knows.”

“That’s a great idea,” Ann chimed. “Maybe if you’re friends with him, we can get him on our side.”

“Who’d wanna be friends with that stuck-up jerk?” Ryuji grumbled, and Ann shoved him, which devolved into them flapping uselessly at each other from their chairs.

Yusuke observed quietly, then asked, “How did you two meet? You seem like you have been friends for a long time.”

Ryuji shrugged, deflecting a swat aimed at his nose. “We were friends in middle school, but sorta drifted apart. Only really started being serious friends again recently. Nothing that exciting.” Holding Ann off with a well-placed arm, he added, “But hey, I know a story worth hearing. Leader, you never really explained why you’re here in Tokyo. There’s all those stupid rumors Kamoshida spread, but we don’t know what’s actually true.”

Akira hesitated, fidgeting with his hair, and Ann recognized the gesture and added quickly, “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, Akira. It’s okay.”

“No, I… It’s fine. You guys are my friends.” Akira took a deep breath, and started from the beginning, when he’d been walking home from cram school. He told them about confronting the drunk man, being hauled off to jail, being convicted and expelled, and finally being told that he was being sent to Tokyo. He tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible, but he couldn’t keep all the anger and fear he’d felt out of the story. His friends looked more and more outraged the longer the tale went on, and finally Ryuji burst out, “Who’s the scumbag that pressed charges? If we change his heart, you could get the conviction off your record, right?”

“I don’t know,” Akira said, gaze downcast. “I never learned his name. He was important enough that he could have it omitted from the proceedings.”

“That’s so unfair, though!” Ann said. “And your parents, just sending you away like that! Did they even try anything else?”

Akira nodded. “I’m sure they did. No other school would take me, though, and I’m sure they were tired of dealing with all the suspicious looks I was getting when I went anywhere. Everyone knew about the conviction in a matter of days, after all.” He sighed. “They’re always like that. They love me, but they expect me to be good. I finally did something bad enough that just being disappointed in me wasn’t enough to make up for court costs and stress.”

“You’re the best person I know, though, other than Lady Ann,” Morgana said.

“I’m really not.”

Yusuke was looking at him in a way that he didn’t quite understand, and Akira waited, trying to figure out what those dark eyes were searching for. When the artist spoke, he asked simply, “Have they attempted to contact you?”

“...no.” Akira said. “They haven’t.” He hadn’t noticed, with everything that had been happening with the Thieves and school and life in Tokyo, but he hadn’t heard from them since the text from his mother that first night. Quickly, he added, “I mean, I haven’t tried to contact them either…”

Ann leaned over to scrutinize his expression. “Hey, my parents are constantly abroad, so I don’t really see them, but we at least video-chat twice a week. I wonder why yours haven’t called.”

“Are your parents not concerned about how you are doing?” Yusuke asked Akira. He pulled a knee up to his chest, resting his chin on it. “I know I will sound like a hypocrite, considering the situation I was recently liberated from, but what you have described sounds like a form of emotional abuse. Unintentional, of course, but...”

“That seems a little harsh…” Ryuji began, but Yusuke shook his head.

“Did the four of you not show me that sometimes it takes an outside perspective to force someone to acknowledge that something is wrong?” he said bluntly. “I do not know all of Akira’s home situation, but from what little I have heard, at the very least they did not react in a proper way to your farce of a conviction. Worrying about fees and the thoughts of others when their son was in distress...”

Akira stared down at his lap, fidgeting with his phone. Yusuke was right, of course. He knew there was, at the very least, something off about how his parents had treated him. But they were his parents. What was he supposed to do?

“It doesn’t matter right now,” he said. “I’m here, and they’re not. And I have all of you. That’s enough.”

“That’s right! We’re not leaving you alone any time soon.” Morgana rubbed his face against Akira’s hand, apparently forgetting how catlike it would look, and Akira smiled at the gesture.

Yusuke looked unconvinced, but was distracted by his stomach growling. “Oh, right. What are we going to do for dinner?”

After a brief debate, they decided on hotpot, and Ann and Ryuji dragged Yusuke off to pick up ingredients. Akira watched them leave, struggling to swallow around the lump in his throat. His attic had never seemed more like a proper home. He had _friends_. Real friends. Real friends who knew all the rumors and the truth about him and cared anyway. It was overwhelming and unreal, after everything he’d dealt with.

“Come on, we have to go get the pot and the portable stove,” Morgana said insistently, and Akira scooped him up and carried him downstairs, content.

***

Yusuke and Ryuji came back with enough food to feed a whole squad of people, and Ann happily brandished a collection of Ghibli movies from their side trip to the DVD rental shop. So after the table and the extra chairs were set up, they cut on _My Neighbor Totoro_ as they ate, leaving Morgana in awe as he finally discovered the origin of his shapeshifting abilities.

“That’s not really a proper bus, though. It doesn’t have wheels,” he commented, and Ryuji hushed him.

“I’d rather you have wheels than ten legs. Less creepy.”

When Totoro was over and they’d cleaned up the dishes, Ann put in _Howl’s Moving Castle_ , and then after that _The Cat Returns_. The only reason they managed to get through three movies was because Morgana got really invested in the story and forgot to tell them to get their sleep. Yusuke kept up a quiet running commentary on the quality of the animation, doodling in his sketchbook as they watched, and Ann, sprawled on the bed between Ryuji and Akira, kept pointing out trivia about certain scenes as the movies went on.

Eventually, though, they did have to go to bed. Akira found an extra futon for Ann rolled up in a closet downstairs, and Yusuke stretched out on the couch, even though Akira felt bad that he had to curl up to make his legs fit. Morgana curled up on the corner of Ann’s futon, leaving Akira and Ryuji to stretch out on Akira’s bed. It was just wide enough that they both had enough room, as long as they weren’t sprawling everywhere.

“Hey, are you still awake?” Ryuji whispered, and Akira grinned. This really was a real sleepover, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, what’s up?” he whispered back, shifting onto his side to meet Ryuji’s gaze in the faint light from the window.

Ryuji scrunched his pillow up, looking awkward. “I just wanted to say… I know you said you’re fine, but… You can talk to us, y’know? About your parents, or anything, really.” He scowled. “I dunno if Yusuke’s right about the whole ‘abuse’ thing, but we’re your friends. You’ve helped us all out, so… Just remember we can help you out too.”

Akira stared at him, caught off-guard, and defaulted to teasing to deflect the overwhelming feeling in his chest. “That’s so sweet of you, Ryuji.”

“Dude, don’t make it weird!” Ryuji huffed, but he was grinning too. “I mean it. You’re one of us.”

Akira didn’t know what he’d done to deserve friends like these, but he needed to figure it out so he could make sure to keep it up.

When he did finally fall asleep, it was with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **RANK UP CHARIOT ARCANA SAKAMOTO RYUJI RANK 2? 3? WHATEVER.**
> 
> I’m only sort of kidding. There’s really only one Confidante I’m going to be actively keeping track of, and I’m sure you all know which one that is. XDD 
> 
> I hope my characterization is okay. Especially Yusuke. These kids are complicated, and that’s why I love them. But Atlus really missed a lot of opportunities to let them bond as a group. As always, there’s a lot of headcanon here regarding Akira’s parents and his emotional state during canon. But either way, here we are at the first divergence point.
> 
> I just can’t buy that no one noticed Akechi’s slip for almost five months. “We forgot, but then his lie about when he had access to the metaverse jarred our memories” is just not as solid as it could be. Someone outside of the group being able to hear Morgana is kind of a big deal, and I think these kids are too smart not to realize that Akechi could hear him right away. And deciding to do something about that instead of letting it go is the first step.
> 
> Edit: Just some minor wording fixes. In hindsight, I really like how this chapter came out. It's where the "butterfly" part of the title comes in, too. ^_^


	8. June 13, 2016 - Veneers of Kindness

As it turned out, Akira didn’t have to find a reason to talk to Akechi. Akechi found him first. As he waited by the stairs that led to his platform on Monday morning, he heard the familiar, pleasant voice call his name, and looked over as Akechi walked up to him with a bright smile.

“Hello. I didn’t realize you took this train to school,” Akechi said, and Akira couldn’t help but think that his smile looked a little rehearsed. This guy spent too much time in front of TV cameras. Everything about him was so polished, it was to the point where he seemed unnatural, like some kind of pretty doll was walking around pretending to be a person. Akira wasn’t interested in the TV personality; he wanted the real thing, who was possibly romping around the metaverse in his spare time.

“How are you?” Akechi asked, and Akira, startled as he was yanked from his musings, blurted the truth.

“I’m sleepy,” he said.

Akechi laughed, but it felt like the kind of laughter given just because it was an appropriate response, not because he’d found the comment genuinely funny. “So that honesty of yours isn’t just limited to television appearances. Good to know.” He tilted his head, inquisitive maroon eyes searching Akira’s features. “I get asked things like that often, and I always wonder how I’m meant to answer. I doubt an interviewer is expecting me to be honest.”

“Most people think you’re strange if you say anything other than that you’re fine,” Akira agreed. He scrutinized Akechi in return, trying not to be obvious about it but wondering what was under that pleasant mask. “What would you _rather_ answer with?”

“That I’m sleepy,” Akechi teased, much to Akira’s surprise. “Being a detective and a student is no easy feat, after all.” He glanced up as the chime sounded to indicate Akira’s train was arriving, and smiled. “It seems we’ll have to cut this conversation short. I hope that I can speak to you again soon.”

Akira nodded, offering up a small smile in return. “I’d like that.” He waved as he headed up the stairs, and once they were on their way, he shifted his bag to hold it against his chest and said quietly, “I’m not exactly sure that he’s real.”

“What do you mean?” Morgana replied, equally quiet.

“Are we sure he’s not some kind of pretty android they built to have a nice face for TV?” Akira asked. “He talks like he’s in an interview even when there’s no cameras around.”

“I guess a celebrity is used to people watching him all the time.” Morgana gave a cat’s attempt at a shrug, and Akira hummed thoughtfully.

“Revising the plan. Step one: get Akechi Goro to act like a real person, _then_ we move on to step two: figure out what he knows.”

There was a disgruntled noise from inside the bag as Morgana curled up more comfortably. “Just don’t get distracted messing with him. This is important.”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry.”

***

Goro didn’t quite know what to make of Kurusu Akira. He was the first person in Goro’s age group to speak to him normally in quite a long time. Most of the time, it was his fans fawning over him, asking questions and requesting autographs, and Goro put up with them because his reputation depended on it. But Kurusu was different. He didn’t seem to particularly _care_ that he was talking to a celebrity, and Goro had no idea whether that was some sort of air he put on or not.

Was he trying to prove something, by openly contradicting a public idol on television? Did Goro’s status really mean nothing to him, or was he pretending to be that unconcerned?

Walking into his own school, on time for the first time in a week, Goro shook his head. Kurusu was interesting enough, and under normal circumstances he would appreciate learning more about him, if just to figure out what made him tick. But for now his focus wasn’t on Kurusu, it was on his friends.

There were only so many blonde teenagers in Tokyo. But two of the three human Phantom Thieves had been blonde, one with particularly long hair done up in twin-tails, and Kurusu Akira’s two classmates fit that description neatly. Kurusu, of course, looked similar to Joker’s messy-haired appearance, but the Thieves’ apparent leader seemed to have much more of an edge than the soft-spoken boy Goro had just met at the station. Kurusu was just...nice. Apparently honest. A smirk like Joker’s shouldn’t come from someone like that.

But perhaps if he did get to know him, he would find Joker lurking beneath the surface. He had to remember what was hiding under his own mask, after all.

As his math teacher droned on about trigonometry, Goro felt his phone buzz, and surreptitiously pulled it from his jacket pocket. There was a text from the SIU director letting him know that Shujin Academy’s principal had someone on the trail of the Phantom Thieves, and that there would be a new ‘case’ for him soon. Goro rolled his eyes. He’d met Shujin’s principal, or rather, he’d met his shadow. The man was a coward, deep down, following Shido and his ilk out of a need to pledge his allegiance to the strongest contender. No one that he picked was going to have any luck finding the Thieves. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to broadcast their activities around the school, after all. No, Goro was going to be the one who tracked them down, ideally without garnering too much of Shido’s attention. So long as they disappeared, it wouldn’t matter how.

Another target, though? Ever since Shido had started taking requests from the upper echelons of his followers, Goro had been busier and busier. Psychotic breakdowns, mental shutdowns, it didn’t seem to matter. That Okumura man in particular had requested more targets than anyone else. If Goro allowed himself to have an opinion, he would find it disgusting. But he was merely the weapon, just for a little longer, and a weapon was not responsible for what the wielder did with it. It couldn’t be.

And if the Phantom Thieves didn’t stop, he couldn’t say reliably that they wouldn’t end up dead, either. Shido had no mercy for those who defied him. Goro knew that well enough. 

Unbidden, his thoughts wandered back to Kurusu. What would the other boy think of that world of shadows and monsters? What did he really think, of changing hearts and driving people mad? Obviously he was a fan of the Phantom Thieves, but there were no guarantees that what they were doing was without risk, or that they wouldn’t stumble down from their apparent moral high ground. Would Kurusu still stand by them if they broke someone beyond repair?

Something to ask, at their next meeting. Goro found himself hoping that it would be soon.

***

Akira’s day dragged on and on, a jumble of lessons and lectures that refused to go any faster so that he could meet up with his friends to discuss their next move. The familiar bustle of the Shibuya accessway would be infinitely preferable to mind-numbing discussions about how many colors it would take to fill in a pattern of shapes, and the mathematical way to figure out the fewest number.

But when the last bell finally rang and he was just about to allow Morgana out of his desk and back into his bag, an upperclassman he’d never seen before walked up to him, looking anxious.

“Er, Kurusu-kun? Niijima-senpai wants to speak with you in the student council room. Right away. Something about your lost book?” He looked like he was afraid Akira would attack him at any second, so Akira just shrugged impassively.

“Okay, I’ll head up there.”

The other student ran off, leaving Akira alone in the classroom, and he sighed. “What could my stalker possibly want now? I definitely didn’t lose a book.” This was getting ridiculous. Kicking them off the roof, following him around Shibuya, and now this?

“I don’t know, but you better get her off our tail. She’s more persistent than Akechi right now,” Morgana complained.

Akira held his bag open for Morgana to hop into, and when he straightened up, he locked eyes with the very startled kid that sat behind him. Senaka Midori, if he was remembering his name correctly. Midori glanced from Akira, down to Akira’s bag, then back to Akira, and held up his hands in a surrendering gesture.

“I… I just came back because I left my pencil case,” he stammered, and Akira shrugged again.

People thinking he was going to murder them over the slightest thing was really getting old. Akira gestured at his bag. “Emotional support.”

He could practically see the wheels in Midori’s head turning as he processed that, and then the other boy nodded quickly. “O-Oh. Okay, then.” He edged around Akira, heading for his desk, and Akira slung his bag over his shoulder and left. The only good thing about his bad reputation was that no one was going to rat him out to a teacher, out of fear that he’d turn them black and blue. It wasn’t a good feeling, but for now, it was useful. The last thing he needed was Senaka-kun blabbing about Morgana, because anyone other than Ms. Kawakami would have his head.

People were mostly on the way downstairs as he headed for the student council room, so no one paid him much mind in their haste to get to clubs or the train station or wherever they were going. Akira got there without much fanfare and wandered in without knocking.

Niijima Makoto was already seated on one side of the table, and gestured to a chair. “Hello, Kurusu-kun. Have a seat.”

Akira’s grip tightened on his bag, and he felt a sudden, irrational urge to bolt. Something was wrong. He shouldn’t be this anxious over a simple meeting with the student council president. Yeah, she was stalking him, but she had no evidence of any wrongdoing. She wasn’t like Kamoshida; she didn’t have that kind of power. So why was his heart racing like he was facing a firing squad?

He walked over and sat, setting Morgana’s bag on the other chair and trying to keep his discomfort out of his expression. Makoto looked him over, her brow furrowed, and then said plainly, “I’ll just go ahead and ask, then. Will you tell me the truth about what’s going on with the Phantom Thieves?”

Akira heard Morgana muffle a surprised yowl, and swallowed hard. “What makes you think I know anything about the Phantom Thieves?”

“I’m not in the mood to play games, Kurusu-kun.” Makoto pulled out her phone, pulling up a recording and letting it play. Ann and Ryuji’s voices came through clear as day, blatantly admitting to being the Phantom Thieves. Akira could feel the blood drain from his face, and Makoto raised an eyebrow. “I know that your voice isn’t on the recording, but I’m sure it won’t take much to tie you to the two of them. So go on. Did you blackmail them? Threaten them? How do you get someone to confess to something as terrible as what Kamoshida and Madarame did?”

Akira said nothing, staring at her as his mind blazed in circles, looking for a way out. She had a recording, and he had no way to protect Ann and Ryuji as long as their voices were captured like that. As if reading his mind, Makoto leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “I wonder what the police would say about this, if I were to take it to them? It would be enough to convince them that you three are the Phantom Thieves, for almost certain.”

“What do you _want?_ ” Akira rasped. Visions of his world collapsing around him filled his head.

“I want to speak with all of you,” Makoto said. “You, Takamaki, Sakamoto. You’re not meeting on the roof anymore, so wherever you’re holding your little gatherings.”

She smiled at him, perfectly, innocently.

“Won’t you take me to your friends?”

Akira felt ill. He knew that tone all too well, the thin sound of kindness pulled transparently over the poisoned barb beneath. The voice of someone who knew full-well that they had the upper hand. Makoto might as well have a knife to his throat, because her words were accomplishing the same thing. That tone was fight or flight, and there was nowhere left to run.

There never was.

So he would have to fight.

“You’re brave,” he commented as he got to his feet, throwing his bag over his shoulder and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Blackmailing a phantom thief. Who knows what we could do to you, once I get you to our secret hideout?”

“If you’re really doing all of this for justice, though, you wouldn’t do anything to someone who isn’t a criminal,” Makoto said, still smiling.

Akira made a face as he headed out of the student council room and into the mostly-empty halls. “Blackmail is a crime, in case you’ve forgotten. So is stalking. That makes you a criminal, Niijima-senpai.”

She was, in some strange way, reminding him of his mother. Asking for the truth, when she already knew and had already made up her mind what to do about it. Asking him to tell her everything had been a farce; she had to have known he would keep silent. But instead of just leading with the recording and the demand to meet the others, she had offered him a rope and tried to get him to hang himself. Now he understood why he’d felt that desire to just run away.

He probably should have. Any excuse would have done just fine. Call off the meeting, go home, stay in his attic and do his homework until Makoto went away.

There was a fleeting moment where he considered shoving her in an attempt to keep her from getting off the train at Shibuya station, to force her to ride to the next stop and come back. and give him the opportunity to get to his friends and disappear. But he knew that if he did that, she would just go to the police with all of her judgments and evidence, and that would be the end of them. So he dragged his feet as they approached the accessway, waiting for the moment that his friends realized something was wrong.

***

In the end, it was basically a trap. Makoto wanted them to change a heart, target to be decided tomorrow, so that she could judge for herself whether or not their actions were just. Akira wondered how blind she could be, thinking that anything the Phantom Thieves had done was even close to what Kamoshida and Madarame had confessed to. But they were stuck. If they didn’t oblige her request, she was going to out them to the authorities, and Ann and Ryuji and Yusuke would be in huge trouble, to say nothing of what would happen to him.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You look awfully gloomy,” Sojiro commented when Akira finally got home.

Akira sighed. “Nothing, just… People at school that know about me.” Not technically a lie, but not what Sojiro would assume it was, either.

Sojiro put away the carafe he’d been drying and hung up his apron. “Look, kid, I know it’s rough, but as long as you know that you did the right thing at the time, you can get through whatever anyone says about you. Understand?”

Akira turned back to look at him, eyes wide. Sojiro had never outright admitted that he didn’t think Akira was guilty, but that was pretty close. After the afternoon he’d had, it was like a breath of fresh air, and he smiled. “Yeah. Thanks, Boss.”

“Right.” Sojiro grabbed his hat, not quick enough to completely hide his own smile. “I’m heading home for the night. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Got it.” Akira headed upstairs, letting Morgana out of his bag and kicking his shoes off. He had homework, but Morgana had promised to help him make more Goho-M’s, and if they really were going to run another Palace for Makoto, they were going to need all the items they could get. Homework could wait until the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akira has a lot of thoughts. And so do I. Oops.
> 
> Also featuring the least imaginative name I’ve ever used, but I think it’s funny, so I don’t even care. XD
> 
> And so we have our first meeting post-TV station. Nothing spectacular, but they both have a plan to try to get information, at least. ;) I did notice, rewatching the introduction scene, two things. Firstly, Akechi doesn’t walk by for almost a whole minute after Morgana mentions pancakes. Which means that unless those kids were yelling, he was standing around the corner listening. Secondly, Akira doesn’t talk at all in that scene. You get no dialogue choices and no gestures, so it’s possible that Akechi assumed Morgana’s voice was Akira’s at the time, which is a hilarious mental image. It also means we can brush off “they don’t let cats on the rides” as talking about Akira. Since he’s a cat. XDDD
> 
> Honestly, out of every member of the Phantom Thieves, including Goro, Makoto was the only one that I really hated when she was introduced. And it was entirely because of that scene. I understood, mostly, what kind of pressure she was under, but her whole fake-kind “Oh, won’t you just tell me the truth, it’s not like I’m holding the power to ruin your whole life over your head or anything” thing pissed me off. She talked a good game about blackmail and coercion possibly being used against Madarame and Kamoshida, but then turned around and did the exact same thing. At least Goro’s goal was to get rid of them from the beginning; she just held her knowledge of the truth up as a threat, like she had some kind of moral authority to judge them. Assuming the Thieves didn’t have special powers, would blackmail really be anywhere close to on-par with what Kamoshida did? Would she really have turned them in for exposing those crimes if they hadn’t been able to find Kaneshiro’s Palace in time? Obviously I liked her in the end, I just find it ironic that she pissed me off more to start than Akechi did, when he’s obviously meant to be the rival. XD
> 
> Edit: Some minor wording stuff. And wow, I actually forgot I wrote that one line so far ahead of time.


	9. June 25, 2016 - Pooled Funds

A castle was one thing.

Pulling off a museum heist was definitely the epitome of being a phantom thief.

But there was something truly entertaining about robbing a fantasy cognition of a bank, especially once they got past the boring offices and hallways of the upper floors and really got down into the inner workings of it. Money rained from the ceiling as they crossed catwalks and navigated heavily-observed hallways. If Akira didn’t have his third eye ability, they’d have struggled a lot more with avoiding all of the security cameras and guards that were protecting the way to the vault.

“Joker, how exactly are you doing that?” Makoto asked once they’d stopped in a safe room to take a moment.

“Hm?” Akira glanced over his shoulder. “Doing what?” Makoto might be on their side now, a rebel at heart just like them, but he wasn’t so quick to forgive the reason they were robbing this bank in the first place. It made him wary of answering too many questions too honestly. But he tucked a water bottle back into his oversized coat pocket and gave her his attention anyway.

Makoto tilted her head curiously. “Spotting the cameras, the ceramic banks that have treasure in them… Did you know that your eyes glow when you do that?”

That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “...they do?”

She nodded. “Just a little, and very faintly red. It makes you look very intimidating, honestly.”

“I’ve never seen myself in a mirror while I’ve used third eye. That’s good to know,” Akira said casually. Let Makoto wonder if it was a Wild Card thing, like being able to use multiple personas. He’d mentioned the Velvet Room to all of them briefly, just in the context of receiving help with his personas, and he’d explained what little he knew about the concept of being a Wild Card. Mostly so no one asked questions when he disappeared for a few minutes to visit his wardens.

...he did hope, though, that the glowing eyes only applied in the metaverse, and not when he activated third eye in reality. It was handy for finding his friends in a crowd.

Makoto seemed to understand that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore and fell silent. Akira felt a scrap of regret for giving her a cold shoulder, but he wasn’t going to make a final judgment on her until this Palace was behind them and they weren’t obligated to work together to stop Kaneshiro from ruining them all.

***

They found another safe room shortly after descending to the vault level, and from a few minutes of scouting, realized it was going to be a long slog to open each ring’s worth of the walls. The whole room was arranged like a giant combination lock, and they were getting too tired to tackle the whole thing today.

But as they walked back through the bank towards the exit point at the entrance, checking for any missed treasure or materials, Ann hung back as they crossed the catwalk. “Hey, Joker?”

“What’s up?” Akira brought the group to a halt in the middle of the catwalk, dollars fluttering down around them.

“I know that this isn’t real money and all,” she said, kicking at a few stray bills emblazoned with Kaneshiro’s face, “but have you seen those cartoons where they paddle around in the swimming pool of money…?”

Ryuji’s eyes went wide behind his mask. “Oh, yeah, that is a thing, isn’t it? Dude, we cleared all the shadows out of this area, can’t we goof off for a minute?”

Akira looked over the railing, and Morgana hopped up beside him, scrutinizing the vast sea of money below them. “It’s hard to tell how deep the bills are,” the cat mused. “Is someone going to volunteer to jump?”

“Dude, I’ll do it.” Ryuji practically jumped up and down, hand in the air. “Let me at it!”

Yusuke had been scrutinizing the walls of the room, and ventured, “Unfortunately, if you jump down there, I don’t believe there is a way to get back up. Even that lower ledge is several feet above where you would be able to reach.”

Makoto was watching them all in disbelief that this was even a conversation they were having, but Akira just waved at Ryuji to settle down and fished around in one of the inside pockets of his coat until he could pull out a small vial. “Here, take this. Fox is right; it’s too far for us to climb back up.”

“Ain’t this one of those Goho-M things, though? You really wanna use one of those for somethin’ like this?” It was clear that Ryuji still wanted to go headfirst over the railing, but Akira was actually proud that he was checking in first.

“It’s fine. I made a whole bunch the other night, and we can pick up more materials from Mementos later. Go on.”

As he fished out one for each of them and passed them around, Ryuji took a flying leap from the catwalk and crashed into the sea of money in a spray of bills. He sprawled atop the piles, laughing hysterically, and did a few exaggerated backstrokes for effect. “It’s pretty deep, guys!”

“What is this?” Makoto asked, examining her vial as Ann and Morgana dove into the pit as well. Yusuke looked hesitant, but followed. They could just barely hear him lamenting that their cameras didn't work in the metaverse once he hit the money.

Akira shrugged in response to Makoto. “It’ll take you back to the entrance if you uncork it. Morgana showed me how to make them from stuff we find in Mementos.”

“...what’s Mementos?” Their newest member was clearly lost, and Akira smirked.

“We’ll show you after all of this is over. Come on, let’s go flop around for a while.”

Makoto bit her lip. “That doesn’t seem very...professional.”

Akira laughed. “I don’t think you’ve been paying attention to us, Queen.” He winked at her, then took a dramatic reverse swan-dive off the railing and almost landed on Morgana. Makoto hesitated, eyeing the vial and the rest of the team floundering around below. She took a deep breath, tucked the vial into a pocket, and then braced herself and jumped as well. When was she ever going to have another opportunity like this?

***

When they eventually left the metaverse and returned to the accessway, they were far less tense and anxious. Normally it took the evening to wind down from working on a heist, but taking the time to goof off and swim in the pool of money had been relaxing. There had still been money stuck in Ann’s hair when they returned to reality after the money fight that Ryuji and Morgana had initiated. Yusuke was still shaking what looked like toy money from his pants legs. Even Makoto had joined in the friendly brawl, laughing and trying to stuff handfuls of bills down Ryuji’s jacket. Akira was starting to rethink his opinion of her after seeing that. If they could get her to loosen up like that, she might actually be a good part of the group.

As he left the accessway, prepared to head back to Leblanc and get some food and do his homework, he looked over and happened to see a familiar figure standing in front of the Ginza bakery, staring intently at the case of pastries. What was Akechi doing here? He didn’t usually take the train this time of day, did he? Either way, it was an opportunity, and on impulse Akira changed directions, already coming up with a plan.

“What are you doing?” Morgana hissed as he headed for the teenaged detective. “Let me out first! I hate not being able to talk when he’s around!” They’d agreed for Morgana to keep silent around Akechi, to keep him from realizing what was going on before they were ready, but Morgana wasn’t fond of being cooped up in the bag for extended periods of time.

Akira stopped long enough to let him out, knowing he would be okay to head home, then continued over to the bakery. “Hey,” he called. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Akechi turned, surprise visible on his face before it smoothed back out into his normal, pleasant, television-ready expression. “Oh. Hello. How are you today?”

“Doing all right,” Akira said casually. “What are you up to?”

“I had some time after a show taping today, so I was going to get some food,” Akechi said. “I’m glad to hear that you’re doing well, though. I’ve heard a lot of rumors about shady activities in Shibuya lately. Just know that if you ever need help, I do have police connections.”

Akira reached for his mediocre guts and charm and said, before he could lose his nerve, “There is something I need help with, actually.”

Akechi tilted his head. “Oh? What is it?”

“I really need some food. And so since the famous detective is also looking for food, maybe we could look for food together.” Akira offered up his best smile, invoking Arsène to try to keep it cool and not awkward. His persona chuckled, but obliged, helping calm his racing heart.

Akechi’s eyes widened, and Akira felt quietly proud that he didn’t manage to immediately revert back to a benign smile. The detective actually fumbled for a second, then said, “Well, I suppose that we do both have a day off tomorrow. I could spare some time to have a meal with you.”

Victory! Guts up, mission one successful! Now onto part two. Akira smiled. “Well, shall we go, then?”

“There are quite a few restaurants in Shibuya. It could take a while to decide where to go…” Akechi mused.

“Actually, I had somewhere in mind,” Akira admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come with me?”

Akechi blinked, still caught off-guard. “I… All right.”

Akira hooked his arm around Akechi’s without thinking about it, heading for the train and bringing the detective along with him. “We’re heading to Yongen, so it’s this platform over here.”

Akechi didn’t respond, and when Akira turned to look at him, the other boy was staring down at their joined arms in utter bafflement. Akira realized belatedly that he’d just sort of grabbed him and let go, stuffing one hand in a pocket and reaching for his bangs with the other out of embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry, I’m used to all of my friends just dragging each other around.”

“It’s...all right,” Akechi said, and there was a remarkably unpolished quality to his voice. “Let’s go.”

Akira breathed a sigh of relief. At least Akechi didn’t seem upset. “Okay.”

***

Goro honestly had no idea where Kurusu was taking him. They got off the train at Yongen-Jaya station, somewhere he’d never had reason to visit before. To their left, alleyways and backstreets wound off into a narrow, mazelike tangle, while to the right, there was a wider shopping street. Akira veered to the right, and Goro followed, never taking his eyes off his companion’s messy hair.

He still couldn’t figure out the puzzle that was Kurusu Akira. It was even more obvious than before that Kurusu didn’t care that Goro was a celebrity, grabbing him out of nowhere like that. It had been a novel experience, actually. No one really touched him, other than handshakes and the occasional pat on the shoulder. If he focused, he fancied he could still feel his arm tingling at the point of contact.

Kurusu finally came to a stop in front of a brightly-lit shop, and Goro looked it over curiously. “This is…”

“They do sweeter stuff,” Kurusu said with a sheepish smile. “Smoothies, pastries… pancakes.”

_Oh_. Kurusu was...taking him out for pancakes. “You…”

“You mentioned pancakes in the hall when we first met,” Kurusu said. “I figured they might be something you liked, and I came here with Ann one day while we were studying for a test. I thought you’d like it.”

That was...surprisingly thoughtful. The dark-haired boy hadn’t said anything at that initial encounter, but apparently he’d been listening, because Goro really did like pancakes. It was one of the few preferences he had. “You would be correct. If you’re that skilled at observations, perhaps with a bit of tutoring you could be good enough at deductions to become a detective yourself. The competition might be interesting.”

Kurusu held the door open for him, his smile bright and genuine. “I doubt that I could keep up with you, Detective Prince.”

They found a small table in the corner, and Goro ordered a large stack of buttermilk pancakes, topped with strawberry syrup and whipped cream. Kurusu, after a moment of contemplation, ordered the same. As they waited for their orders, sipping on glasses of juice, Goro asked curiously, “Why did you invite me to eat with you? Wouldn’t you rather be out with your other friends?”

“Maybe I want you to be my friend,” Kurusu countered, his gaze intense through his large-rimmed glasses. He laughed, quietly, and continued, “No, really, I’d like to get to know you. I doubt the Akechi Goro that’s on TV is everything that you are.”

“That’s ridiculous. Sure, I’m on my best behavior on TV, but I assure you, I’m not that different,” Goro laughed. It was a bald-faced lie, but Kurusu just nodded.

“Maybe, but either way, I’d like to get to know the one that’s not the Detective Prince.” He reached for the bowl of creamer cups sitting to one side of the table and started stacking them into a pyramid.

Goro watched him for a moment, after glancing around the small restaurant to make sure no one _else_ was watching his tablemate be so childish. “...you’ve never seemed like you noticed that I’m the Detective Prince, even though you use my title. I find it rather unusual, honestly.”

Kurusu looked up from his pyramid. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the few times that we have encountered each other, you speak to me as though I am a normal person. You give honest, unfiltered answers where many people are afraid to contradict me, you grab my arm like I’m just another one of your friends… You claim that you wish me to be your friend, but you act as though I already am.”

“Well, if I keep acting long enough, maybe it’ll become reality,” Kurusu teased. “You haven’t really objected.”

“That’s because I don’t know what to do with you,” Goro sighed. “You’re quite an interesting person, Kurusu-kun.”

Kurusu’s brow furrowed, just a little. “I can...stop, if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said, as if he was worried he’d done something offensive.

Goro shook his head. “I’ll let you know if anything actually bothers me. It’s just...different.”

At that point, the waitress arrived with matching stacks of fluffy pancakes, and Goro couldn’t help the delighted smile on his face. He reached for the syrup enthusiastically, not noticing Kurusu scrutinizing his expression with a tiny smile on his face.

When they were both about halfway through their pancakes, forced to pause for a moment to give their stomachs a break, Kurusu commented blithely, “You really do like pancakes, don’t you? I thought celebrities didn’t eat a lot.”

“I’m not that much of a celebrity,” Goro deflected. “But honestly, I often don’t have time to eat much more than an apple or something for lunch. Today all I had was a cup of instant noodles before the show taping started. So I might have a bit of a bad habit of indulging when one of my favorite foods is put in front of me.”

“I’m glad I offered to take you out, then,” Kurusu said with a wink, and Goro looked down at his pancakes quickly. There was a strange humming feeling in his chest. He’d felt it once before, at the TV station, but didn’t know what it was. Apparently it had something to do with Kurusu, though, because here it was again. Robin Hood made a pleased noise somewhere in the back corner of his mind, and Goro tried to ignore him so that he could focus on his food and not embarrassing himself any further.

“Don’t think that you need to pay for me just because you asked me here. I’m perfectly capable of paying my share,” he began, but Kurusu shook his head.

“Absolutely not. You’re going to besmirch my good name even more than it already is, if people find out I took the Detective Prince to dinner and then let him pay. I have the money, Akechi, it’s fine.”

Hearing Kurusu actually directly call him by name was surprisingly pleasant, even without an honorific. “What has happened to already besmirch your good name, I wonder?” he asked, but to his confusion Kurusu ducked his head and reached to tug at his bangs again in some sort of nervous habit. He was a very fidgety person, playing with his hair or the creamer cups or tapping his foot against the floor under the table.

“It’s not really something suitable for a date at a nice place like this. Let’s not ruin the mood,” Kurusu said, but there was a sour note in his voice. 

Goro was tempted to pry, but conceded that it would be a shame to ruin a pleasant meal. Unfortunately, he’d already taken his next bite of pancake when the rest of what Kurusu had said sunk in. “Date…?!” he spluttered through a mouthful.

Kurusu grinned. “Isn’t that what this is? A pancake date?”

“I have known you for the total equivalent of two hours and you are absolutely incorrigible,” Goro said, once he’d swallowed. But Kurusu just laughed, and Goro jabbed his fork into the next bite with a little more force than necessary.

It was only later, once Kurusu had paid for their dinner and seen him off at Yongen-Jaya station, that Goro realized he had forgotten to ask a single thing about the Phantom Thieves. Kurusu was extremely distracting, unfortunately. His friends were still suspicious, though Goro had his doubts that Kurusu himself was a thief, even if he knew of his friends’ activities. That was probably it; he was a fan of the Phantom Thieves because they were his friends. It simply wasn’t computing in his head that this ridiculous, overly-friendly boy could be the same as the intimidating-looking Joker he’d seen in Madarame’s Palace, despite their similar appearances. Joker didn’t wear glasses, for one thing, and Kurusu was nowhere near that smug-looking. He knew that was hypocritical, considering his own facade, but Kurusu seemed too genuine to have depths anywhere near as deep as Goro’s.

Next time, he resolved. Next time he would ask Kurusu more about the Thieves. He couldn’t afford to get distracted again.

***

When Akira climbed the stairs into his attic, he was almost immediately assaulted by his cat jumping up onto his shoulder from where he’d been perched on the TV.

“Well? Did you learn anything new from Akechi?” Morgana asked.

“He really does like pancakes,” Akira said with a small smile.

Morgana dug his claws into Akira’s shirt. “That can’t be the only thing you learned in all that time! Did he drop any hints about the metaverse?”

Akira went over to stretch out on his bed, letting Morgana climb up to stand on his chest and stare down at him. “No,” he said finally. “We didn’t really talk about the Phantom Thieves or any of that. I told him I want to get to know him better, which is true. I learned he sometimes doesn’t have time to eat because he’s so busy. I don’t know, Morgana. He’s got a high-profile job, TV interviews, school and schoolwork, prepping for college entrance exams… Does he really have time to be running around the metaverse, too?”

“He’s the only suspect we have. Madarame already mentioned someone in a black mask intruding on Palaces, and Akechi’s the only other metaverse-user we know of. If it’s not him, who else could it be?” Morgana asked.

“I don’t know, but I’ll keep trying. He seems nice enough, even if I’m pretty sure I haven’t gotten all the way through the TV facade yet.” He reached for Morgana, who allowed him exactly one rub on the top of his head before hopping off of him and retreating to the other end of the bed.

“Well, for tonight, you should probably catch up on your homework. There’s that essay about literary archetypes due the day after tomorrow,” Morgana pointed out.

Akira groaned, but sat up and stretched. “Sure thing. Whatever you say.” But even as he went to his desk and started digging around for his books, he couldn’t help but think of Akechi. Akechi, confused at something as simple as linking arms. Akechi, admitting that he didn’t eat enough. Akechi, embarrassed by even the joking insinuation that going to dinner together meant they were on a date. Akira felt like he was getting tiny glimpses of the real Akechi Goro, in miniscule fragments.

It felt like only a matter of time before he would find enough pieces to get an idea of the whole picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **RANK UP**   
>  **CONFIDANTE AKIRA KURUSU/GORO AKECHI**   
>  **FOOL/JUSTICE RANK 2**   
> 
> 
> In-game rank 2 isn’t until the end of July? Nope. Honestly all the automatic links in this game were off-balance. Yald and Morgana didn’t even get their last rank-up ‘til the last day, and Sae skipped like four ranks for no apparent reason.
> 
> AND SO IT BEGINS. Poor Goro’s not used to being treated like a normal person instead of being fawned over or ordered around. XD And we’re back to the self-indulgent mush. I really, really wanted to jump off that catwalk. A lot. And was annoyed that the game wouldn’t let me and/or that there wasn’t a room where swimming through money was part of the puzzle. And also I wanted to take Akechi on a pancake date. Yes I know in canon he’s probably at the bakery because he’s spying on them, but let me pretend he’s staring longingly at a pastry instead.
> 
> Edit: Wording, pacing, the usual. I've got a problem with fluff words sometimes, I'm finding.


	10. July 11, 2016 - Acute Isosceles

Kaneshiro went down after a truly ridiculous fight involving a giant piggy bank, although the Thieves were denied their public confession. But he did confess to the SIU, and the general public credited the Phantom Thieves after the dramatic nature of the calling card papered all over Shibuya, so that was close enough.

Akira, as leader, had final say on Makoto’s continued presence in the group, but she’d proven herself during the run through the Palace, and she’d apologized for trying to blackmail them, so she was basically already accepted. Having a proper strategist was going to be an asset, and Akira honestly appreciated the backup for his decisions. Being the leader was a huge responsibility.

The Monday after Kaneshiro’s confession, Akira and Ann were waiting at the train station before school, scrolling through comments on the phan-site and chatting about their upcoming exams.

“So we’re going to go study after school, right?” Ann asked. “Ryuji’s itching to go back to Mementos, but seriously, exams are Wednesday.”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, we’re not doing Mementos until we get at least one more solid request and exams are over,” Akira assured her. “Another level will probably have opened up, so it’ll be a full afternoon of exploring.”

Ann sighed. “Makoto’s really insistent that we get good grades on our exams. I get where she’s coming from, but history is definitely not my strong suit.”

“I’d rather do literary analysis any day. History and math are the worst.” He’d checked out half the library books on famous literary figures while trying to learn more about their personas, after all. It was a shame that the Japanese editions of the Lupin novels were so difficult to find. Somehow, he had a feeling that Arsène’s versions would be exaggerated.

“At least you’re good at the English parts, Lady Ann. And both of you are smarter than Ryuji,” Morgana commented from Akira’s bag.

Akira tapped him on the head. “Hey, don’t make fun of Ryuji when he’s not here to defend himself.”

He was expecting a snarky comment, but Morgana ducked back down into the bag, and when Akira glanced around he spotted Akechi walking across the station towards them, weaving through the morning crowds. Ann tensed up next to him, and he nudged her gently before smiling as the detective got closer. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Kurusu-kun, and...Takamaki-chan, from the TV station, yes? How are you?” Akechi asked, smiling in return.

“We’re good,” Ann said, a note of wariness in her voice. “You’re riding the train today?”

Akechi chuckled. “Yes, unfortunately. I usually prefer to bike most places, but there was something I needed to take care of today, so I didn’t have the time.” He looked between them curiously. “Is something happening today? You both look rather stressed.”

“Exams start on Wednesday and we suck at history and math,” Akira said, figuring he should keep up his track record of being blunt around Akechi. “We’re going to try to study this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Akechi adjusted his grip on his briefcase, hesitating a moment before offering, “I’m not so sure about history, but I could offer a few pointers in math, if you wanted.”

Ann leaned a hand on her hip, skeptical. “You have time for that? I thought you were busy with shows and work and such.”

He shook his head. “Today is a relatively free day, and I am trying to...well. Kurusu-kun expressed that he wished to be friends, so I am making an effort to reach out.”

Akira had to give him credit, it sounded a little less rehearsed than usual. He also had a feeling that the offer had nothing to do with being friends, and everything to do with weaseling in among Shujin students in an effort to learn some tidbit about the Phantom Thieves. But that didn’t stop him from shrugging in acceptance. “We’re meeting up at the diner in Shibuya when school lets out. You can meet us there if you want to.” With sudden inspiration, he dug his phone from his pocket and added, “Here, trade numbers with me. You can let us know if you’re coming or not.”

Akechi hesitated again, but then pulled out his own phone to share his number. “Hopefully nothing comes up, but I will do my best to be there.”

The chime signalling the train’s arrival sounded, and Akira nodded. “We’ll see you then.” He and Ann headed up the stairs, and Ann scoffed.

“He won’t show up. He’ll make some polite excuse and then blow us off,” she said carelessly. Akira was inclined to agree, but when they got on the train Ann leaned close and distracted him from a news report about another rampage accident by saying pointedly, “Akira.”

“Hm?”

“Did you just get _Akechi Goro’s_ phone number?”

Akira raised an eyebrow, not sure what she was getting at. “Yes?”

“How do you _do_ things like that? Do you know how many teenage girls would kill a man to have his number? It’s like you don’t know how powerful you are.” Ann poked his forehead, and he smiled sheepishly, nudging her back.

Most of the time, he honestly didn’t register that Akechi was a celebrity. It wasn’t anything that particularly mattered, other than as another obstacle to finding out what the real him was like. So having Akechi’s phone number wasn’t a big deal, though he did briefly imagine the piles of yen he could make if he offered it up to Akechi’s adoring fans.

That would be cruel, though. And Mementos offered higher returns anyway.

***

Goro realized on the train to Shibuya that afternoon that he was actually slightly nervous about meeting Kurusu and Takamaki for their little study session. That would explain why he’d come up with five different excuses why he couldn’t attend, and almost texted Kurusu one of them.

Takamaki was a Phantom Thief. He was almost certain. And Kurusu was suspicious despite his friendly countenance and despite Goro’s prior theory that he was just the adoring fan of his friends. He’d finally tried searching Kurusu, Takamaki, Sakamoto, and Madarame’s former pupil Kitagawa on the meta-nav. None of them had come up in any kind of search at all. Goro wasn’t sure what kind of person didn’t have a shadow, but it was highly unusual, and the fact that Kurusu was included had forced him to reconsider his initial thoughts.

That was why he had to go to this little meeting. It would be the perfect opportunity to get near Takamaki and see if she would slip up. Using Kurusu to get to his friends seemed a little underhanded, but he could live with it. It was nothing compared to his usual methods.

When he entered the diner, he spotted Kurusu and Takamaki near the back, at a quiet table where they would be mostly spared from interruptions or being overheard. They were seated on opposite sides of the booth, and as Goro got closer he could hear Takamaki lamenting, “I really don’t think he’s coming, Akira. He’s got more important things to do than help us with algebra.”

Goro almost stopped walking as Kurusu’s eyes flickered up to meet his own over Takamaki’s shoulder, and the other boy smiled. “Here he is now. Told you so.”

There was a moment where Goro didn’t know what to do. He had to pick one of them to sit beside. Things like this were not in his usual scope of social interaction; he didn’t deal with his peers often. But he kept his smile firmly in place and sat down beside Takamaki, who scooted over to accommodate him.

“I apologize for being late. I had to take a phone call before making my way over here.” A white lie, and Takamaki nodded.

“Better late than never. This math is killing us,” she said. “Aren’t you a third-year? You’re on trig; this stuff should be easy for you.”

Goro leaned in to look over their woefully-inadequate notes on polynomials and quadratic equations. Akira’s were slightly more coherent, but Ann’s were a disaster, and Goro rolled his eyes. “The two of you need to learn to take better notes,” he said, forgetting to be polite for a moment, and for some reason Kurusu smiled.

“There’s just so much to learn,” he whined, and Goro sighed.

“Very well.” He pulled Kurusu’s textbook across the table and started pointing out examples. Time passed quickly, and many sheets of notebook paper ended up filled with complex equations and scribbled-out mistakes as both of them struggled through factoring the equations Goro made up for them. But by the time they were on their seventh or eighth, they’d started getting the hang of it, and Goro was actually feeling quite good about his ability to field their questions as they worked.

“And a particular trick to remember is that if the final number of the equation is positive, then you know that both factors will have the same sign.” Goro pointed at each successive equation they’d done, and both Takamaki and Kurusu leaned in to look, making matching incredulous noises.

“Why didn’t the teacher ever explain that?” Kurusu grumbled. “That would have helped a lot.”

“Why does it make so much more sense when you explain it?” Takamaki groaned, and Goro felt a small burst of pride.

“Having direct instruction is often more beneficial than a large classroom setting,” he said lightly. “Especially for something as complex as higher math. Factoring polynomials has much more of a method to it than the rote memorization of history, for example.”

Takamaki leaned forward to rest her head on her folded arms. “Can we get you to quit the police and be our private tutor? I’m sure we can figure out how to pay you.”

Goro laughed politely. “Unfortunately, I don’t think that will be possible, but I appreciate the regard for my abilities.”

“Ugh. At least let me buy you a drink, then. Have you ever had Frui-tea? It’s this diner’s special drink for this season. It’s super-popular with the kids at our school.”

“...no, I haven’t, actually.” It would come in handy to try it, though, if it was that popular. A good conversation-starter if he needed to approach any more Shujin students, at the very least. “If you’re recommending it, I’m sure it’s good.”

Takamaki flagged down the waitress and ordered them three Frui-teas, and as Goro was contemplating how to broach the subject of the Phantom Thieves, Kurusu managed to somehow do it for him.

“I’m assuming you already know about that rampage accident from this morning, Akechi,” he said quietly. “Do you know what happened? I only caught part of the news on the train.”

Goro nodded. “I actually had to take a half-day of school today so that I could participate in the investigation. A truck-driver mounted the sidewalk and struck several pedestrians before hitting a building. Four are dead, including the driver.” The gloom in his voice wasn’t feigned; he never intended there to be collateral damage to the rampages, even though he had no control over it.

“Geeze…” Takamaki murmured. “Are these psychotic breakdowns getting more common?”

“I think the media is simply recognizing more of them for what they are,” Goro said. “The same is true of the mental shutdowns that Prosecutor Niijima is working on.”

“Oh, yeah, Makoto did mention that, didn’t she?” Takamaki commented, and Goro made a mental note of the fact that his suspected Phantom Thieves were on first-name basis with Niijima Makoto. That could be useful later.

He leaned his cheek on his hand, glancing between Takamaki and Kurusu. “If I could ask your opinion on that subject… Do you think, perhaps, that the mental shutdowns and the changes of heart enacted by the Phantom Thieves are similar?”

“Similar?” Takamaki echoed, and Goro just barely registered her tensing up beside him. “Not really. Mental shutdown victims die. The Phantom Thieves have done three changes of heart, and all of those people are still alive. I think they’ve got good intentions.”

They were all quiet for a minute as the waitress dropped off their drinks, and then Goro continued, “But you must admit, even if the outcomes are not the same, the methods are likely very similar. To wipe out someone’s consciousness and to alter it so drastically are probably only a few steps from each other. If I could learn the Phantom Thieves’ method, it would likely help dramatically in determining the cause of the mental shutdowns, and even the psychotic breakdowns.” And, of course, he had his personal reasons for wanting to know, but that was merely so he could determine that their methods were equally damaging.

Takamaki looked down at her drink. “I believe in the Phantom Thieves,” she said. “They get horrible people to confess their crimes. The mental shutdowns just seem like they’re happening at random, like someone enjoys killing.”

Goro’s expression remained placid, though inside he wanted to snap at her. “Do you think the Phantom Thieves have ever considered killing anyone?”

“That’s a bit of a loaded question, detective,” Kurusu said quietly, but Takamaki shook her head.

“Dealing with people like Kamoshida, I could see where they might. I certainly wouldn’t have been sad if he’d died. But this way, he pays for his crimes. I think that’s the difference between whoever is causing the mental shutdowns and the Phantom Thieves. If they have the power to shut someone down, they’re not using it.”

Goro stared down at his Frui-tea, attempting to parse everything she’d said, only to look up when Kurusu commented, “You look like you’ve never considered that before. Were you that convinced that the Thieves are villains?”

He was smirking, an expression that Goro had seen before, quite clearly...on the face of the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Everything clicked into place with that one mischievous smile, and Goro now knew for certain. Kurusu Akira was Joker.

And Goro was not nearly as pleased to know that as he had thought he would be. Joker was the ‘trickster’, destined to stand against him, supposedly, whereas Kurusu had actually been halfway-decent company. If they were one and the same, it was only going to cause problems down the line. Although, if Kurusu was so determined to be friends, that could work to Goro’s advantage, because he might be able to learn more about their workings if Kurusu grew comfortable enough with him...

“Akechi?” Kurusu asked, and the detective shook his head quickly.

“Sorry, I got lost in thought. What were you saying?”

“Do you really think that the Thieves are villains?” Kurusu repeated.

Goro glanced between the two members of that group that he was sharing a table with, and said, with deliberate politeness, “I haven’t come to a solid conclusion yet.” His phone buzzed with a text, and he checked the message quickly before standing. “Unfortunately, I’m needed at the precinct, but I am glad that I could be helpful with your math work. Thank you for the tea, Takamaki-chan.”

“Sure thing. Thanks for the help!” Takamaki said brightly, and Goro left the diner. Shido wanted to speak with him about something, and he needed somewhere private for that kind of conversation. Goro considered telling him that he’d discovered the identity of the Phantom Thieves, but ultimately decided against it. There was still a chance to end this without any more unnecessary bloodshed.

***

After Akechi had left, Akira leaned his head on his hand and stared at Ann.

“Did you maybe forget that we suspect _Akechi_ is the one causing the mental shutdowns?” he asked, smirk still quirking his lips. “You pretty much just accused our possible murderer of killing for the fun of it to his face.”

Ann cringed. “I forgot who I was talking to for a minute,” she said guiltily, and Akira laughed.

“That’s the secret to your acting abilities, then,” he teased. “You just have to forget what you’re supposed to be doing.” 

He ducked as she reached over and roughly mussed his hair, and Morgana poked his head out of Akira’s bag. “Even if he’s not the Black Mask, he’s still a threat. I think he’s suspicious of us. That’s why he was asking all those weird questions.”

Akira shrugged. “Well, I’ll keep trying to get close enough that he’ll drop a hint about the metaverse. It’s coming along, if getting him to show up today was any indication. He was actually helpful.”

“Just be _careful_ ,” Morgana said. “If he figures out you’re one of the Thieves, it’s all over.”

“I know, I know.” It was going to be a very careful dance, finding information without giving up any of his own, but Akira was sure he could do it. It was going to be too much fun, with Akechi as a partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked up algebra for the first time in eight years for this. I hope y’all are happy.
> 
> I’m hoping that switching names based on the primary POV isn’t too confusing. I’ve got a whole section of my notes document about who calls who by what name and when and why it changes. Just like I’ve got a chart of all the Justice rank-ups, since they’re not quite the same. :P And a story playlist that’s being gradually added to called “Akechi’s life is Imagine Dragons”, because seriously, half the Imagine Dragons songs I’ve listened to fit either this or canon or both. XDDD
> 
> Next chapter: Minato sees someone familiar, and Yu gets a surprising text message.
> 
> Edit: a smidge of wording


	11. July 19, 2016 - A Glimpse of Something Lost

His dreams had been hazy and vague before they solidified. Comforting blue, gentle piano, soft singing… He wished so badly that it was reality and not another false dream of a home and a family he missed. Accessing meta-space in his dreams was so difficult on his own. Gradually, though, things began to sharpen, and Minato blinked properly awake. The stone wall was cool against his side where he was lying on some sort of cot, and he sat up, confused.

He was in a jail cell, others visible across the center of the empty, round room beyond the bars. When he moved to the door to get a better look, he realized it was a prison, all in familiar blue. And there was a figure in the cell opposite him, curled up on a cot of his own.

Minato’s eyes flew wide and he grabbed onto the bars desperately. “Ryoji?!”

Because that was who it had to be, right? The tall young man across the way, locked away on the opposite side of the blue room, with a mop of black hair and familiar striped clothes. Minato hadn’t seen the version of him that was Pharos in seven years, but it didn’t matter. “How did you get there?!” he called, his voice cracking. The iron of the bars was cold beneath his hands, cementing in his mind that all of this was real, and he hoped desperately that Ryoji would wake up as well so they could figure out what was happening. He was in the Velvet Room. Months and months of trying, and he’d finally dreamed his way in. He had to at least try to take advantage.

But the dark-haired young man didn’t stir, his face slack and peaceful with sleep. A dark haze began to fill the space beyond the bars, and for a moment the singing stopped and there was a woman’s voice, somewhere in the darkness.

_“You should not be here, Child of the Universe. It isn’t safe.”_

“Lady Belladonna! No, no, wait! Ryoji! Ryoji!” He strained against the bars, reaching into the darkness.

_“You’re too powerful, Minato-san. Please, for everyone’s sake, be patient. Be patient…”_

The room was obscured once again and his eyes snapped open. Someone was shaking him, and as he focused he realized it was Ryoji, concerned and wearing his normal pajamas.

“W-What…” Minato blinked sleep from his eyes, staring at him in confusion. “B-But you were… You were there, you were asleep...”

“I was where?” Ryoji asked, leaning over him with distress. “You were thrashing and whimpering in your sleep. What happened? Was it another nightmare? I’m not going anywhere.”

Minato shook his head, still trying to reorient. “No, not like that… It was the Velvet Room.”

Dead silence filled their room. Ryoji sat back and let Minato sit up, bright blue meeting storm grey as he struggled to figure out what to say. Finally, he managed to stammer, “Did… Did you see them? Are they okay?”

“I don’t know,” Minato replied. “The only person I saw… I thought it was you. But you looked like Pharos, with the striped clothes. And the room looked like a prison.” He pulled his knees to his chest, uncertain and worried. “It was strange. Now that I’m not there, it didn’t feel...right. It was the Velvet Room, there’s no doubt, but something was wrong. Even with Lady Belladonna’s singing, something didn’t feel safe. And then she told me to go, that I shouldn’t be there _because_ it wasn’t safe, and that I had to be patient…” He shuddered. “I’ve _been_ patient, Ryoji. Why won’t they tell me anything? What isn’t safe?”

Ryoji pulled him to his chest, resting his chin in Minato’s hair. “The Room still exists, and Lady Belladonna’s okay, at least,” he said. “That’s something. And Mitsuru-senpai’s looking into the Phantom Thieves, since we’re pretty sure one of them has to be the Trickster. Things are going to be okay, dearest.”

“If that wasn’t you in the Room, though, maybe it was him…” Minato murmured. “The Trickster, the new Wild Card.” He frowned. “I have to find a way back in. If there’s a new Wild Card, there’s a door somewhere.”

“If the Thieves are working in Tokyo, we’ll have to plan a visit to see Hamu-chan and Shinjiro,” Ryoji said. “It’s a big city, but there’s always a chance. And we’ve got a better sense for the doors than most.”

Minato nodded against his shoulder, but his thoughts were still racing. What had Belladonna meant by him being ‘too powerful’? Was he too strong to keep out entirely if he was dreaming? Why was the new guest’s Room a prison? What kind of person was he?

Unfortunately, he was too tired to keep thinking for long, and Ryoji was warm, lulling him back to sleep. His other half was safe, not locked up in a strange blue cell, but Minato couldn’t help but be worried about the newest of their number. If his mental state was so bad as to make his Room a prison…

Ryoji sighed as Minato drifted off, shifting his hold enough to get them both lying down again. He had the worst feeling that things weren’t as stable as they seemed. Eventually it wasn’t going to be enough to know that they were all safe. If only there was a way to try to get in contact with the Phantom Thieves, but as Mitsuru had said, they were all like ghosts. There were no leads to follow, and without access to meta-space, there was little else they could do but hope for a lucky break.

***

Being in his final year of college, Yu didn’t have a lot of free time among all of his coursework, but when he did, he often found himself at the park, soaking in as much of nature as he could. He missed how wide-open Inaba was, how he could ride his bike down tree-lined roads or go wading at the flood plain with Nanako. Inokashira Park was a close second, though, and wandering past the lake, he found a seat on a bench, flipping through the group chat he had open. He finally had time to reply, after the agitated text he’d found that morning on his way to class.

**Chat: Blue Family - Minato, Ryoji, Yu, and 5 others**

> _[Yu - 2:30pm] Sorry I didn’t text sooner. Presentation to prep for. You actually made it into the Velvet Room?_
> 
> _[Minato - 2:33pm] I think I got a glimpse of our new Wild Card, but Lady Belladonna just told me I had to be patient. I didn’t see Igor or anyone else._
> 
> _[Marie - 2:34pm] Okay, but at least we know LB’s OK. If she’s OK, the rest of them are probably fine. The Nose would keep them all safe._
> 
> _[Ryoji - 2:37pm] We’re gonna try to visit, but look for a Door for us if you have time, Yu-kun._
> 
> _[Yu - 2:37pm] I’ll try._
> 
> _[Yu - 2:38pm] Hey, have you been following everything with the Phantom Thieves? Mitsuru-san’s upset she can’t find anything, and now this Medjed group’s going after them._
> 
> _[Minato - 2:41pm] If they’re working in meta-space, like your tv world, we won’t be able to track them unless we find an entrance._
> 
> _[Ryoji - 2:41pm] gtg, my break’s done. Mina, tell them about the Room feeling weird._
> 
> _[Marie - 2:42pm] Weird????_
> 
> _[Yu - 2:42pm] Weirder than usual??_

  


Yu waited anxiously for the reply, stretching his legs with a casualness he didn’t feel. Minato, of all of them, was the most used to living halfway in meta-space. If _he_ was saying there was something weird about the Velvet Room, it had to be something really weird. 

The typing indicator kept flicking on and off, as if Minato was trying to figure out what to say. But finally the messages started coming, and Yu read them over quickly.

> _[Minato - 2:45pm] The Velvet Room has always felt safe. Even that time the elevator crashed. I knew we’d be okay._
> 
> _[Minato - 2:45pm] But Lady Belladonna said it wasn’t safe to be there, and for the first time I didn’t **feel** safe. Even the music didn’t help, and the Poem is always comforting. That’s the whole point. Something’s off about the Velvet Room, and I’m nervous._
> 
> _[Minato - 2:46pm] Nothing should be able to affect the Room that much. Igor’s too powerful. It would take a huge amount of will. Nyx never tried, but if this is something as strong as Nyx..._
> 
> _[Ryoji - 2:46pm] Nothing’s as strong as Nyx._
> 
> _[Minato - 2:47pm] Stop texting at work before you get in trouble!_
> 
> _[Marie - 2:47pm] Izanami couldn’t touch the Velvet Room. Not like that. So if it is something, it’s stronger than her. Me. w/e_
> 
> _[Marie - 2:48pm] gtg get ready for the 4:00 news. Still can’t believe how long makeup takes. TTYL._
> 
> _[Yu - 2:49pm] Well, I wasn’t worried before, but now I am._
> 
> _[Minato - 2:50pm] How do you think I feel?_
> 
> _[Yu - 2:51pm] I’ll look for a door when I have time. We’ll figure it out, Minato-senpai. We always do._

  


Minato didn’t reply, but Yu had a feeling his meaning had gotten through well enough. Ryoji wasn’t wrong, after all. There was nothing as strong as the Goddess of Death, and even she hadn’t been enough to kill a team of persona-users. And there were more of them, now.

He dropped his phone into his lap and sighed. Here, with the sun shining and ordinary people around, it was hard to believe that something terrible could be lurking beneath the surface of consciousness. He looked at the people jogging and walking their dogs, the kid sitting on the edge of the lake sketching couples in the swan boats, the little kids tugging at their parents’ hands… This was the world they were meant to protect. This was the world they had all fought for. So they were going to figure this out, no matter what. 

He needed to call Naoto and see if she’d made any progress with talking to the Tokyo PD. They were being completely tight-lipped about anything to do with the Phantom Thieves, worried about information leaks. But that was looking like their best bet to learn anything new at this point, without exercising the Shadow Operatives’ power too early or taking a risk with their shadows. One of Maya’s friends had tried as well, but they were being stonewalled in every direction. It was almost strange, if Yu didn’t know about how protective the police could be of their information from his uncle.

Either way, wherever the Phantom Thieves were… he hoped their group was as close as his team and Minato’s had been. That would make all the difference in the world, in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that this one is a little short. I’ve been dealing with a cold (I think?) and my head has felt like mashed potatoes. And that means no witty Shuake banter because I can’t be clever if I’m mashed potatoes.
> 
> Once we get past Medjed, things will start to pick up the pace pretty significantly.
> 
> Yu is studying some sort of psychology, because I picture him as growing up to be some kind of therapist, considering what he’s like in the game/anime. Honestly I haven’t actually concretely decided what his major is, so if you ask you’re not going to get much more than that vague answer. He seems like the sort who’d want to help as many people as possible, though, on top of being a Shadow Operative.
> 
> (Yes, that’s Yusuke by the lake. I appreciate the maximum amount of irony of having the kids around and having no one know who’s who. XD)
> 
> Next chapter: Goro makes an attempt to stop the Thieves before things go south, which has an effect he didn’t intend at all.


	12. July 24, 2016 - Unintended Consequences

“Akechi-kun.”

The voice startled him out of the doze he’d slipped into, and Goro jerked awake, accidentally throwing his pen halfway across the room as he attempted to avoid faceplanting his desk. Standing to one side, Sae raised an eyebrow, watching as he collected himself and pasted on a smile. “Yes, what is it, Sae-san?”

Sae frowned. “Have you been sleeping properly?”

Goro’s smile slipped, just a bit. He hadn’t had as many Mementos targets recently, which meant that his options for supplementing the meager amount of sleep he got at home were few and far between. Knowing Sae wouldn’t believe him if he outright lied, he said instead, “Things have been quite busy, recently. Homework, interviews, chasing the Phantom Thieves…”

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Sae admonished, but it was gentle, not born of rebuke but of concern. Goro wondered why she cared. From her perspective, he wasn’t making any progress on the investigation either. It wasn’t like she would suffer a loss if he had to take a sick day.

“I’m trying, but… Things are a lot, right now. I have a difficult project I’m working on, in addition to the investigation.” One could call the Phantom Thieves a project, he supposed. He’d pretty much figured out his next move; the only issue was encountering them to put it into motion, and then hopefully that would eliminate at least one of his headaches. He really didn’t want to have a target put on a group of teenagers, and Shido was growing more frustrated by the day. Better to attempt to scare them off first. “I’m fine, really. There’s nothing to worry about.”

But his stomach decided to betray him, letting out a growl loud enough for Sae to hear, and she narrowed her eyes. “Have you eaten today?”

Goro avoided eye contact. “I had an apple this morning.” Old habits were hard to break, even if he was purchasing them legitimately now.

Sae pressed her fingers to her forehead, clearly exasperated. “That’s not a meal, Akechi-kun.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out three thousand-yen bills. “This is an order. You are going to go get a proper dinner. You will bring me the receipt to prove it. And then you can get back to work on whatever you’re doing. If anyone asks, you’re running an important errand for me. Got it?” She held out the bills expectantly.

“I can’t take your money--” he tried to object, but there was steel in her eyes, and he ducked his head. “I understand. Thank you for your kindness.”

“You’re good at what you do, but I don’t want you to burn yourself out. That means taking proper breaks,” Sae said. When he took the bills from her, she reached up to ruffle his hair, chuckling at his startled expression. “Now go on, and don’t come back until you’ve eaten something.”

Goro grabbed his things, shrugging on his coat and heading out of the building. He supposed he could ride over to Shibuya, eat something, and come back. A quick trip. It was okay to take a break, just for a little while.

Loki was trying to insist that Sae just didn’t want him fainting in the middle of his work. That would cause unnecessary trouble for both of their departments, after all, as well as for their partnership on the cognitive events that had been occurring. But Robin Hood, quieter, wanted him to accept the kindness for what it was: concern for his well-being. Goro wanted to laugh. Since when had anyone ever been concerned for his well-being? But he thought of Sae messing up his hair, talking to him the way she might talk to her sister, and for a second he wanted to believe that Robin was right, for once. There was a warm feeling in his chest, and he hoped that meant things were okay.

***

There was a little shop in Shibuya, a tiny hole-in-the-wall place, that sold tempura and udon. Goro picked up a bowl of noodles with chicken tempura and settled himself in a corner, tucking the receipt carefully into his pocket as evidence. Once he’d taken a few bites, he realized how hungry he truly was, and he ate almost embarrassingly quickly. At least that meant he could get back to work quicker, but he tried to savor the last few bites of a warm meal that wasn’t instant microwave ramen in his empty kitchen at midnight.

When he was done, he headed back to the station, planning to catch the next train back to work. But before he could get to the platform, he spotted the Phantom Thieves walking through the hallway and froze. This was it. He could put his plan into action right here. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the gods and to Sae, for getting him out of the office, and made his way towards them.

“Oh, Kurusu-kun,” he said, feigning surprise. “I didn’t realize your group was friends with Niijima-san. What a small world.”

The Thieves had clearly gained a new member if their newest tag-along was any indication, but Goro could honestly say he never would have expected straight-laced Niijima Makoto to take up thievery. Or perhaps she didn’t know, as ridiculous as that sounded.

“She stalked me until I agreed to be friends with her,” Kurusu said, and for a second Goro didn’t know what to say, not expecting such an absurd description. Fortunately, he was saved from responding by Niijima flustering and telling Kurusu to be quiet.

“What are you doing here, Akechi-kun?” she asked, once she’d collected herself.

“I was just picking up dinner before I head back to the precinct,” Goro said, smiling politely.

Kitagawa spoke up from the back of the group, then. “Oh, so this is Akechi?”

Goro nodded. “Yes, I’m Akechi. Pleased to meet you, Kitagawa-san. You were Madarame’s pupil, yes? You have my sympathy for how that situation turned out.”

“Er… Thank you.” Kitagawa fell silent, dark eyes searching Goro’s expression, but Goro turned his attention back to Kurusu.

“Have you been following the latest developments with the Phantom Thieves?” he asked lightly. “Medjed has declared outright war on them now. It’s developing into quite a concerning situation.” He smiled to himself as they all visibly startled, though some of them were better at hiding their panic than others. Kitagawa and Niijima didn’t react beyond an initial surprised gasp. Sakamoto and Takamaki were already huddled around Takamaki’s phone in the span of a few moments as she translated the English message that had been posted on Medjed’s website. And Kurusu, other than the flicker of surprise in his sharp eyes, revealed nothing.

“They really have declared war!” Takamaki cried.

“Goodness, why do you all seem so flustered?” Goro asked, feigning curiosity.

Sakamoto floundered for words. “Well, she’s, uh… She’s a huge fan of the Phantom Thieves. Nuts for ‘em. Of course she’s gonna be flustered if someone wants to take them out.” He scowled. “Is it a crime to be a fan of theirs, now?”

“It’s just…” He put on an innocent face that he didn’t feel and that he knew Kurusu wouldn’t buy for a second, which was exactly why he did it. Let their leader interpret exactly how much of a threat was lurking below the surface. “Well, my profile for the culprits behind the changes of heart suggests that they are all minors, with enough free time after school to do as they wish, and somewhere that they can meet up without drawing too much attention.”

“You think people our age would be capable of something like that?” Niijima asked. “It seems like pretty sophisticated blackmail.”

Goro shook his head. “The method is something to work out later,” he said. “But, allow me to continue… Based on their first target, at least a few of them are likely students of Shujin, where Kamoshida was employed. Someone connected to Madarame wouldn’t be strange as well. And it was well-known that Kaneshiro Junya was targeting teenagers, returning to our earlier point of the age of the culprits.” He smiled, tilting his head in a way interviewers found endearing. “It’s the sort of group that you all seem to have here.”

“What are you implying?” Sakamoto growled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The others shifted awkwardly, looking defensive, and Goro was certain that they’d gotten his point.

“I’m not implying anything,” he said lightly.

Kurusu quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re right to be suspicious, you know,” he said offhandedly. “Ryuji’s a phantom thief.”

Goro stared at him, then laughed at the absurdity of the admission. It was probably true, of course, but he couldn’t take it that way. Not yet. He didn’t have any proof. The timing, though… Kurusu really was interesting. “You never react to things how I expect,” he said, even as Sakamoto spluttered an objection. “But come now. I am interested to hear your opinion. We could make a good team, with interpretations and deductions. You seem to be a wealth of information, after all.”

“Akira…” Niijima began, but the dark-haired boy shook his head.

“Do you have a little bit to talk?” Kurusu asked, adjusting the strap of his bag.

Goro beamed. “I can certainly make time for you.” Kurusu was the truly important one among this merry band of idiots anyway. If he could get Kurusu to back down, the others that followed him like smitten puppies would back down as well.

Kurusu glanced back at his friends. “I’ll meet you guys at the house in half an hour or so. Don’t worry about it.”

They all looked reluctant, especially Niijima, but headed for the train platform anyway. Kurusu went the opposite direction, towards the accessway, and Goro followed until they found a relatively private corner. That was when Kurusu turned on his heel, gunmetal eyes piercing.

“What are you doing?”

Goro put on an innocent smile. “What do you mean? I was merely making conversation.”

Kurusu sighed. “Do you genuinely think we’re the Phantom Thieves, or are you just trying to upset my friends? You know Ann’s a fan of them.”

“Have you considered that I’m perhaps doing it for your reactions? They’re quite entertaining.” True, but not quite for the reasons Kurusu would probably think. The best lies were mostly truth, after all.

“Careful, Akechi. I might think you were interested in me.” Kurusu batted his eyelashes, and Goro swallowed the defensive objection that wanted to slip out. He had a feeling that if he seemed too flustered, Kurusu would be all-too-happy to take advantage of that.

Instead, he said, “Well, there does seem to be some bond between us, since fate threw us together at that show taping. Perhaps destiny has some grand plan for us two.” If you could count supposedly being opponents as a plan. But, fight wordplay with wordplay. Kurusu would back down out of embarrassment, he was sure.

To his surprise, though, Kurusu actually appeared _pleased_ by the idea. He smiled, only a little mischievous, and said casually, “I can’t say it’s a bad thing to have the pretty celebrity detective’s attention. You could have any girl you want and you pick me to talk to. I’m flattered.”

Goro gritted his teeth. This idiot… He had some guts. “Before we stray too far from our original topic,” he said, forcing his voice to remain pleasant, “I just want to let you know, my investigation is progressing. The Phantom Thieves would be wise to stop now, before I’m forced to take action against them.” Like having to kill them, for instance. “This is, of course, so that you can tell your friends, since they’re such big fans, yes? I wouldn’t want them to be disappointed when the Thieves are arrested.”

“Of course,” Kurusu replied. His infuriating smile was still on his face, and Goro stepped back.

“Well, it was nice speaking with you. I should let you go so you can catch up to your friends.” For some reason, there was a tiny part of him that hoped Kurusu would stay, and he ruthlessly squashed it. He didn’t have the advantage to try to pry more information out of him right now. Better to just let him go. “I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“Sure thing,” Kurusu commented. “We could go on another pancake date.”

He sounded so _sincere_ , for a second it was easy to forget that he was talking to the leader of the Phantom Thieves. “P-Perhaps. Good evening, Kurusu-kun.” Goro walked away from him quickly, before Kurusu could say any more ridiculous things.

It was only once he was safely on the train back towards the precinct that he realized that Kurusu might have thought he was _flirting_. Oh, hell, that was not how he’d wanted to come off at all. It was all Kurusu’s fault. He had started it. Or… had Goro started it, by offering to make time for him?

Why did dealing with Kurusu always end up more complicated than dealing with the usual adults in his life? Hopefully the other boy took his implications to heart and had the Phantom Thieves back down. Otherwise, very soon, they would be at the top of a very short list of targets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **RANK UP**   
>  **CONFIDANTE SAE NIIJIMA**   
>  **CHARIOT RANK 3**
> 
> **RANK UP**  
>  **CONFIDANTE AKIRA KURUSU/GORO AKECHI**  
>  **FOOL/JUSTICE RANK 3**  
> 
> 
> This might be the first time I've repeated a date in the whole eight parts of this. I'm in recovery mode from this godforsaken cold, so hopefully next chapter will be long enough to make up for these past two.
> 
> Goro and Akira both have the tiniest idea that this game they’re playing is a mistake. Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that. :)
> 
> Next chapter: We’re skipping Medjed. No, really, we’re just...blowing right past Medjed after this. Canon can hold the line for me, because this is Not a Novelization™. There’s more important things to talk about, because Akechi’s going to find his new favorite coffee shop, and the benefits of an extra rank-up beforehand are going to be apparent.
> 
> Edit: Cleaned up the wording, and realized that they call each other by name way too much and fixed that too.


	13. Aug. 14, 2016 - Honesty

Akira could think of better things to do on a Sunday than be dragged out of bed before noon. He was on summer break, for goodness sake. But he woke up gradually at the sensation of Morgana patting his face with a paw.

“Hey, Boss is calling you,” the cat said, batting at his nose.

Akira groaned, waving in an attempt to get Morgana away, but Morgana dodged and jumped onto his chest. “Come on, get up and see what he wants before he comes up here and drags you out of bed.”

“He wouldn’t,” Akira said halfheartedly, but he got up and pulled on some actual clothes before padding downstairs with Morgana at his heels. Sojiro was standing at the counter with Futaba, and there was a plate of pastries and a freshly brewed pot of coffee behind the counter. “Hm? What’s the occasion?”

“I have some errands to run today, and I need you two to watch the shop,” Sojiro said, already dressed to leave. “I figured bringing you breakfast would make up for raising you from the dead before the afternoon. I flipped the sign already, but you have my permission to eat while you’re working, just this once. Futaba’s going to handle the dishes and things in the kitchen.”

Akira shrugged. He hadn’t had any other plans for the day, other than at least trying to pack for the beach trip tomorrow. “Sounds okay. Is breakfast taking the place of getting paid?” he asked, already going to get his apron.

Sojiro raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be flippant. And no, it’s not. Don’t worry.” He put his hat on and headed for the door. “I’ll be back by closing to check in. Take care, you two.”

Futaba, her mouth full of pastry already, beamed. “Our first major multiplayer challenge! I’ll be support!”

Akira blinked sleepily as she spewed crumbs all over the counter. “Uh-huh…”

***

Working at Leblanc wasn’t a particularly hard job. The Sunday regulars trickled in gradually, getting their coffee and curry and occasionally chatting with Akira as he worked the grinders and the french press. Morgana hung out on the shelf beside the TV, commenting on people’s orders and bantering with Futaba when no one was around to overhear. And Futaba herself was doing really well, even venturing out of the kitchen to drop people’s orders at their tables without her mask. Akira was proud of her. It was hard to believe that she’d been a shut-in a few weeks ago.

At twenty minutes to eight, Futaba was wiping down the tables and Akira was cleaning the bigger coffee pots when the bell over the door chimed. Akira glanced over. “Welcome to Lebla--”

The greeting died in his throat as he realized Akechi Goro had just stepped into the shop. He hadn’t seen the detective in three weeks, ever since that rather-blatant threat in the Shibuya Station. Akechi hadn’t made any further moves since then, but Akira was still working on his plan to hopefully get some information out of him.

“When Sae-san recommended this place to me, I had no idea you’d be working here,” Akechi commented, taking the stool two seats from the door and regarding Akira curiously. “What a small world.”

“Yeah. Weird coincidence. Maybe you were right about that whole ‘fate’ thing,” Akira said casually. He stumbled a bit as Futaba darted around the counter to press herself against his back, peeking around him to stare at Akechi. “Hey, wait a second…!”

“Oh,” Akechi said, leaning a bit as if to try to see Futaba better. “Is this your sister?”

Futaba squeaked, though Akira couldn’t tell if she was offended or pleased to be mistaken for his sibling. “No, this is Futaba. She’s Boss’s daughter. He’s the one who owns the coffee shop.”

Akechi perked up with recognition. “You must be Isshiki Wakaba’s--” he began, but didn’t get any farther as Futaba literally growled at him. Puzzled and caught off-guard, he managed, “I’m sorry…?”

Akira shook his head. “Her mom’s a bit of a sensitive subject,” he said quietly. “Would you like to order? We’ve got a good variety here.”

“I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with such a varied selection. I’ll have whatever you recommend,” Akechi said politely, and Akira nodded.

“Futaba, go sit, I’ll get you some curry.” He set a kettle to boil and measured out a filter of Blue Mountain, then went to spoon up a plate of curry. When he went to hand it to Futaba, who’d taken the seat at the opposite end of the bar from their single customer, he caught Akechi watching him and asked cheerfully, “Want some? It’s a special recipe.”

Akechi blinked. “I, ah… All right. I did say I would have what you recommend.” He watched attentively as Akira prepped another plate and prepared a slow-poured cup of coffee. Akira resisted the urge to shrink back self-consciously, and instead focused on doing his job as best he could. But he couldn’t help but wonder if Akechi looked at his hands and saw a thief’s grace instead of a barista’s skills.

He pushed the curry across the bar and asked, “Cream and sugar?”

“One cream and three sugars, if you would,” Akechi replied, and Akira bit back a teasing comment. The detective had a bit of a sweet tooth, though the pancakes had given that away as well. He added the requested extras and passed over the mug, and Akechi took a small sip and smiled.

“This is actually quite good, Kurusu-kun,” he said, and Akira rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Boss has been teaching me.”

Akechi reached for his spoon. “Well, if the curry is just as good, I’ve probably found my new go-to coffee shop.”

There was quiet for a few minutes as both Akechi and Futaba ate their curry, and Akira was quietly grateful that Futaba hadn’t fled upstairs or attempted to claw Akechi’s face off. He was finishing up the last of the dishes when Akechi glanced at the TV and said, “Oh. If you keep it on this station, I should have come last night. I missed the new episode of Featherman.”

Before Akira could make a comment about Akechi having likes and dislikes like a normal human person, Futaba blurted, “ _You_ like Featherman?”

Akechi nodded. “I’ve always watched it. The classic Featherman R is my favorite, obviously, but I liked the actress they chose for Feather Pink in Victory, and while their return to more classic elements was refreshing, I look forward to seeing how they will handle an entirely new cast this season, considering the popularity of Pink Argus’s character.”

Akira could feel his mouth falling open in shock as the two of them ended up in a lively discussion over the merits of different plotlines and character arcs. Akechi was a giant nerd. He never would have expected that in a million years. But Futaba seemed to be having fun, not anxious at all, and his closing tasks went a lot smoother without her glaring at Akechi from down the counter. When Sojiro flipped the sign and walked in at five past eight, Akira was expecting at least a little praise.

But Sojiro froze just inside the doorway, staring at Akechi, and said sharply, “What are you doing here? I already told the Niijima woman that I don’t know anything else about Wakaba’s research.”

“I’m not here for Sae-san,” Akechi said, and there was a kicked-puppy look in his eyes that disconcerted Akira for some reason. “She just recommended the coffee.” He set his spoon down awkwardly. “I...disagreed with her methods, involving your daughter in this. I cannot apologize on her behalf, but…”

Sojiro sighed. “I believe you, kid. Don’t worry about it.” He glanced at Akira and Futaba. “Good job watching the store today. Everything looks good. Akira, the shop’s closed, but this kid can stay ‘til he finishes his coffee.”

“Got it, Boss,” Akira confirmed as Futaba hopped up to walk home with Sojiro. “See you in the morning. Night, Futaba.”

“Night, Akira!”

When they were gone, Akira glanced at Akechi, who was staring down at his coffee with an air of melancholy.

“It seems I’m unwanted no matter where I go…” Akechi murmured, so quietly that Akira was barely certain he’d even spoken.

He came over to lean on the bar across from the detective. “Sojiro just takes a bit to warm up to people. And that can’t be true, anyway. I’m sure loads of people want you around. You’re practically an idol.” He smiled sunnily, but oddly enough, Akechi just kept staring into his cup.

“Fans are fleeting,” he said. “They like me for simple, meaningless reasons. My charm, my intellect…”

“Because you’re pretty?” Akira suggested. He couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve to say it, but it was worth any annoyance he might have caused. For just a second, it was like he could see directly into Akechi’s soul, as the other boy shot him the driest look that he’d ever experienced in his entire life, completely real and without even a hint of TV personality behind it.

“Yes, Kurusu-kun. Because I’m pretty,” he said flatly.

Akira shrugged, still smiling. “At least they like you, whatever the reason is.”

“They wouldn’t if they knew everything,” he said. “No one has ever wanted me beyond some superficial reason. Certainly not my foster parents.”

“Foster parents?” Akira asked before he could stop himself.

Akechi chuckled bleakly. “Ah, yes. My mother was in a relationship with a man who, after she learned she was pregnant, wanted nothing to do with either of us. She did her best, but eventually the stigma of raising a bastard got to her. She had no other living relatives, so after she died I was passed from foster home to foster home, institution to institution, taken care of out of obligation and the promise of money from the government.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I live on my own, now, but I do well enough for myself, and it’s far preferable to the conditions in any of those homes.”

Akira was quiet, taking in what had been said. Akechi was a detective. He’d made it quite clear that he had his suspicions that they were the Phantom Thieves. Was he sharing part of his past, hoping to bait honesty out of Akira in return? If he was, he didn’t have to. Akira had already decided to be honest with him, at least a little, hoping he could get something out of Akechi. If they were playing the same game, this was going to be interesting.

“I can empathize with feeling unwanted,” he said quietly, bringing over a few of the wet glasses and mugs from the kitchen so he could dry them and still continue the conversation. “I’m surprised that someone like you is even bothering to talk to someone like me.”

There was a flicker of confusion in Akechi’s expression. “What do you mean?”

Akira smiled, but this time it was more strained. “You’re the police, detective. I’m sure you looked up my record after the TV station, since you were so interested in me. I’m surprised you’re deigning to speak to someone with a conviction for assault. No one else wanted to, until I met my friends.”

“I did look up your record,” Akechi admitted, setting his coffee down and resting his head on one hand. Maroon eyes searched Akira’s face, as if looking for something. “The case seemed very strange. Rushed, I would say. Did you really assault a man?”

“No.” Akira kept his eyes firmly on the glass he was holding. “I shoved him because _he_ was trying to assault a woman. He fell and hit his head because he was drunk. And he must have been someone powerful, because she lied to the police and at the trial to protect him. Because he threatened her.”

“She lied in court?” Akechi said, disbelieving. “That alone should be enough to clear your record, if it came out.”

Akira shook his head. “I don’t know his name. And she had a pretty common name. I’d never be able to find her, and she probably wouldn’t help me if I did.” He finally looked up. “So that’s it. I’m here because everyone in my hometown, including my parents, thinks I attacked someone. So they sent me away.”

“I had no idea,” Akechi said, and he sounded genuinely sympathetic. “Something like that shouldn’t have been allowed to happen. I cannot help but be a tiny bit grateful to your parents, though, because I at least got the opportunity to meet you.”

Akira ducked his head, tugging at his bangs and hoping that it hid the flush he could feel spreading across his face. “I’m...glad that I got the opportunity to meet you too.”

_Oh no._ What on earth was he feeling? Akechi wasn’t supposed to look so attractive when he was offended by someone lying in court. He wasn’t supposed to look cute when he was frowning because Akira had made a stupid comment. Akira wasn’t supposed to want to make more stupid comments to see if he could get Akechi to laugh. Akira wasn’t supposed to be moved by possibly-fake sympathy from someone who might be their enemy.

He was supposed to be getting information from Akechi, and that was all.

Akechi set his empty mug down on the edge of the counter and smiled. “I’m afraid I should be going. I hope that I can come back again soon; I enjoy our talks a lot. Though I’ll be sure to come before closing next time.”

As he turned to leave, he clipped the mug with his arm. “Oh!” It sailed off the counter and hit the floor before he could get his hands on it, shattering into pieces. Akechi’s eyes went wide and he took a step back, his grip visibly tightening on his briefcase. “I… Forgive me, it was an accident.”

“It’s okay.” Akira went over to get the dustpan, surreptitiously watching Akechi from under his bangs. He looked a lot more anxious than a normal person should over a simple broken mug. Akira came around the counter armed with the broom and started sweeping up the shards, adding, “Seriously, relax. We’ve got a whole cabinet of them, plus a ‘something’s broken’ section of the budget. No one’s going to arrest you over a cracked mug, Detective Prince.”

The sound of his title seemed to jolt Akechi out of whatever he was thinking, and he smiled again, though it looked hastily taped-together this time. “That’s right. How silly of me.” He stepped back, out of the way of Akira’s sweeping. “I do apologize for causing more work for you, though. I’m sure you want to get home sooner rather than later.”

Akira shrugged. “I am home. I live upstairs, in the attic.” Struggling to get the last few bits of sharp glaze off the floor, he almost missed the way Akechi’s expression flickered.

“You live in the attic?” He sounded almost concerned, and Akira grinned.

“Yeah. It’s pretty big, actually. Want to come up and see?” He wasn’t sure what had possessed him all of a sudden, inviting Akechi up to his room, but it was a moot point as Akechi shook his head and stepped back.

“Perhaps another time,” he said. “I’m already intruding past closing, and I’m afraid there are things tomorrow that I need to get home and prepare for. I appreciate the invitation, though.”

“Have a safe trip home, then,” Akira said, and he watched as Akechi lifted a hand in a wave and left.

He went over to lock the door behind him, then dumped the shards into the trash. He’d tell Sojiro in the morning. There was, in fact, no harm done by a broken mug. It did confirm one thing, though. Akechi was probably telling the truth about his childhood. No one reacted to a simple accident like that unless they’d been conditioned to it.

He would know, after all. He still cleaned the kitchen with relentless perfectionism if he cooked anything. Being scolded by his mother once was enough.

“You think any of that sob story was for real?” Morgana asked, venturing out from where he’d been curled up behind the TV.

Akira nodded. “I think so. The way he reacted to that mug breaking…” He stuck the broom and dustpan into the back room, then allowed Morgana to jump down onto his shoulder. “I feel like I know more about him as a person, now. And he was willing to tell me something like that. He’ll let something about the metaverse slip soon. I can feel it.”

Morgana made a disgruntled noise. "...didn't we find a Featherman blanket in Mementos?"

"Yes...we did." Akira shut his eyes, trying to ground himself in the reality of the situation. "It'll be okay, Morgana."

“If you say so,” Morgana said, rubbing against his neck and the side of his head. Akira twitched, and the cat continued, “Come on, though. You promised we could try to finish Gambla Goemon tonight!”

“I didn’t realize you were so emotionally invested in that luck-based nightmare,” Akira laughed, but headed upstairs regardless. They were making progress. Everything was going perfectly.

***

Sitting by himself on the train back to his apartment, Goro tried to convince himself that he wasn’t concerned about the leader of the Phantom Thieves.

Kurusu lived in an attic, when it was obvious Sakura-san and his daughter had their own home. He didn’t seem the sort to be abusive, and Kurusu was all smiles and obnoxiousness, but smiles weren’t always the truth. Goro knew that well enough because he practiced it on a daily basis.

He shook his head. Kurusu seemed happy, and there was no reason for him to be thinking any deeper into this. There were more important things to think about. The Phantom Thieves had taken down Medjed; they clearly weren’t frightened off by his warnings. A poll had gone up on their website asking what their next target should be, and the rankings hadn’t settled since it opened. Shido was going to get frustrated enough to make a move soon, and Akechi wasn’t going to be able to stop him. The Phantom Thieves would dig their own graves.

But in the end, it didn’t matter. As long as he was at Shido’s side when they hit the peak, all of his plans would come to fruition. And Goro could finally have some peace of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **RANK UP**   
>  **CONFIDANTE AKIRA KURUSU/GORO AKECHI**   
>  **FOOL/JUSTICE RANK 4**   
> 
> 
> A longer chapter, to make up for my mashed-potato brain last week. I know y'all have been waiting for something like this. :P As explanation for the date on this one, one thing that bugged the heck out of me was that I did the pyramid in a matter of days, and then Futaba slept for three weeks straight. Spending time with my friends was great and all but that killed my immersion just a smidge from a narrative standpoint. So Medjed has gone down early (8/7 instead of 8/20ish), and we’re going to use that free time to do some social links. And group bonding! Yay! 8D
> 
> Rank 2 is enough to awkwardly bring up your tragic backstory when no one asked in canon, so Rank 3 is enough to earn some actual, unfettered truth. The extra level of comfort with someone’s presence makes a difference. And sometimes all it takes is one thing to leave a scar, and you won’t even notice the scar is there until something irritates it again. These kids are a lot more similar than they’re willing to acknowledge out loud, which really only feeds Goro’s jealousy later. 
> 
> Next chapter: Some new locations, and Akira deals with a small problem with his plan to get info from Akechi.
> 
> Edit: Still making the Featherman references consistent. ;)


	14. Aug. 19, 2016 - Wine-Colored Complications

“So, why are we going to Akihabara again?” Makoto trailed along a step behind Akira and Futaba, the latter of whom was vacillating between excitement and anxiety almost too fast to keep up with.

Akira glanced over his shoulder as they boarded the train. “Because there’s a new game coming out that Futaba wants to pick up, we decided that it would be another good opportunity for her to be around people other than us and the cafe patrons, and we’re bringing you because you said you wanted to know more about what your peers were into. Everyone wins.”

“Hey, I had a whole conversation the other day with someone that wasn’t one of you guys!” Futaba objected, perching on a seat as Makoto and Akira grabbed the handholds.

Akira rolled his eyes. “That thing with Akechi was a fluke. How were we supposed to know that he could talk about Featherman for that long?” It had been kind of endearing, though.

Futaba stuck her tongue out at him, but Makoto looked alarmed. “Akechi-kun was in Leblanc?”

“Yeah, your sister apparently recommended the coffee. He seemed really...normal,” Akira said. “He likes kids’ shows and three sugars in his coffee, and I think he’s getting more comfortable around me. I’m sure I’ll learn something important any day now.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t trust him,” Morgana huffed from inside Akira’s bag.

“I hate to say it, but I agree with Morgana,” Makoto said, lowering her voice in case anyone might be close enough to hear them. “After that threat at the station, he’s probably looking for proof of who we are. He could be playing you, Akira. It might be best to try a new plan.”

Akira reached up to tug on his bangs. “Nah, this will work. I can feel it. Besides, it would be weird if I just stopped talking to him all of a sudden at this point. That would be even more suspicious.” Of course, he had his own reasons for wanting to keep talking to Akechi, but he’d gotten really good at not saying things that would cause an argument or get him in trouble, so he buried those reasons and smiled at Makoto placatingly.

Futaba looked up at both of them, unamused. “Okay, so what I’m getting from this is that Akechi’s the rival character in this story. Which means he’s probably going to end up helping us out in some sort of dramatic, brooding anti-hero fashion, because he will come to respect Akira as an equal.”

“This isn’t an anime!” Makoto huffed. “He might be a murderer!”

Futaba shrugged. “Be glad I went with a shonen summary and not a yaoi one.”

Akira had several opinions, and chose to keep them to himself. Morgana and Makoto’s identical noises of disgust probably summed up the majority vote anyway. Instead, he patted Futaba on the head, glancing up at the train news as they approached their destination. Talk of the Phantom Thieves had been nothing but positive ever since Medjed’s defeat, and comments about the police and Akechi had taken a soundly negative turn. Akechi kept up his usual smiling appearance on TV, standing by his conviction that the Thieves needed to be brought to justice, and people went after him for it. Akira wasn’t following the poll on the phan-site too closely, but he’d seen many votes for Akechi mixed in, occasionally with overly-aggressive comments.

_Akechi doesn’t know what he’s talking about! The Thieves are heroes!_

_I hope the Thieves steal Akechi’s heart next! He needs to learn that they’re the good guys!_

_Akechi’s just gonna be in the way if they don’t get him. Take him out!_

Comments like that made Akira uncomfortable for a multitude of reasons. Stealing Akechi’s heart purely so he would agree with them would be no different than brainwashing. The instant they went after someone who wasn’t a criminal, someone who simply disagreed with their methods, they wouldn’t be able to claim to be the good guys anymore. Akechi wasn’t an obstacle. They all wanted the same thing: justice.

No matter who ended up at the top of the poll, they would still need to look into the person. If it was someone who was a criminal, or corrupt, they would still need a unanimous vote. Akira wasn’t going to let the ‘phandom’ take the reins.

Now if only he could work up the nerve to tell Mishima that a poll was a bad idea in general. That guy’s innocent enthusiasm was weapons-grade.

***

Akihabara was full of the usual crowd of people, and Futaba stuck close to Akira and Makoto as they made their way down the street. They bypassed Electric Town in favor of heading towards a smaller game shop near the end of the street, but a call of “Kurusu-san!” from the front of the arcade brought them to a halt.

An elementary-school boy came down the steps towards them, and while Makoto and Futaba looked confused, Akira waved. “Hey, Shinya-kun.”

Shinya looked a bit disappointed when he realized there were other people with Akira. “I was hoping you came for a round, but I don’t wanna bother you if you’re with your friends.”

“Actually,” Akira said, glancing at Makoto, “a stop at the arcade might be just what we need.” He pointed to each of his friends in turn. “This is Niijima Makoto and Sakura Futaba. Guys, this is Oda Shinya. He’s been teaching me to play Gun About.”

Makoto raised an eyebrow. “Is this why you’ve been a better shot recently?”

Akira nodded. “I’m improving,” he grinned. “Right, sensei?”

“Don’t call me that!” Shinya whined, and Futaba gasped.

“Oh, wait! I know you! You’re the one they call the King, right?” she said excitedly. “Thank goodness someone’s teaching him to play actual video games. Did you know that all he’s got at home is some old Famicom thing? I don’t even know if it’s a real one; it might be a knock-off.”

“Futaba!” Akira objected, but it was too late. Shinya was already cracking up.

“Seriously? What do you even play? Train of Life?”

“...haven’t started that one yet,” Akira mumbled, which gained him another burst of uproarious laughter. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with Star Forneus. I like Star Forneus.”

“Famicom games are fine, ‘Kira, but you’ve got to play something that’s not 8-bit at some point. Like the Keys to the Kingdom series or… or… heck, I’d even accept if you started with Super Luigi World. That’s a classic!” Futaba said loudly.

Makoto looked completely lost, glancing between them as she tried to follow the conversation. Akira nudged her towards the arcade with a grin. “Come on, Makoto. We’ll get you to play a round of Gun About, and you’ll see.”

“I’ve never been in an arcade before,” Makoto mumbled, and he hooked his arm around hers. 

“Well, here we go, then.”

Shinya watched in amusement as Akira set himself and Makoto up with the two lightgun controllers. But to both his and Futaba’s surprise, Makoto got the hang of it extremely quickly. She surpassed Akira’s highest score in two rounds, and Shinya practically elbowed Akira out of the way to take a turn after that. Akira had to laugh. They were both competitive, yelling at the screen and at each other, and eventually he had to turn away so they wouldn’t notice him snickering.

Futaba tugged on his sleeve. “Hey, Akira, I’m gonna go get my game, okay?”

“Hm? Do you want me to go with you?”

She shook her head. “I can do it! The shop’s just across the street. I’m going to think of it as the next step on my questline: get the game without Akira’s help. You can stay here and watch the King and Queen shoot stuff.”

Akira looked skeptical, but nodded. “Okay. But if you’re not back in twenty minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

“‘Kay.” Futaba waved at him, ducking around the crowd that had gathered to watch Shinya and Makoto yell at Gun About and heading out the arcade’s door.

“Will she be okay?” Morgana asked. “Do you want me to go after her?”

“I trust her,” Akira said, looking back at the game as Shinya managed a particularly difficult combo. “She’ll come through.”

***

Fifteen minutes later, though, Futaba hadn’t come back, and Akira turned away from Makoto and Shinya’s discussion of optimal multi-shot strategies to head across the street. He’d said twenty, but he had a bad feeling, and he was proven right when he walked into the game store and spotted Futaba in an aisle, crouched in a protective ball with a security guard looking over her worriedly.

“Are you okay? Where are your parents?”

Futaba just made a strangled, anxious noise, and Akira hurried over. When she caught sight of him, Futaba launched to her feet to latch onto his waist, and he wrapped an arm around her protectively.

“Do you know this girl?” the security guard asked, and Akira resisted the urge to be sarcastic. No, the girl with blatant anxiety had latched onto a total stranger. Because that made sense.

But there was no reason to be hostile, so he said simply, “She’s family,” and felt Futaba nod against his ribs.

The guard seemed satisfied by that and left them alone, and Akira laid his other hand on top of her head. The response had been almost automatic, and he couldn’t help but think back to Akechi’s guess that she was his sister as well. Futaba didn’t look upset by it at all. Instead, she just looked embarrassed.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” she said. “There was this sudden crowd of people, and I panicked. Jeeze, I can’t even go pick up a game by myself…”

“Hey, your anxiety isn’t going to just go away,” Akira scolded good-naturedly. “It’s going to take time.”

“That’s right,” Morgana chimed in. “But you’ve got us to help until then, okay?”

“Like a key item I can use to finish the questline,” Futaba said, sounding much better, though still wobbly, and Akira hesitated before nodding.

“Yeah, like that.” He had an idea of what that was, at least.

“Okay, that’s it, we have to find you some better games. Or at least a laptop so you can watch let’s plays.”

***

They managed to get Makoto out of the arcade eventually, but only after Akira had won the Jack Frost plush from the crane machine. Makoto ended up having a great time, and Futaba had insisted that she and Akira had to come over some time to play “actual modern video games”.

It was decided on the train back to Yongen that Morgana was going to spend the night with Futaba, to be there in case of any lingering anxiety, and Akira swung by Leblanc to change clothes and then headed out again.

Shinjuku was as neon-bright as usual, and Akira made his way to Crossroads with little fanfare. The tiny bar was empty this early in the evening, and Lala raised an eyebrow at him when he entered.

“Ohya’s not here tonight, kid. Sorry.”

Akira climbed onto one of the barstools. “It’s okay. I just wanted to come think somewhere that’s not at home.”

Lala fixed him with a pointed gaze, then mixed him a virgin mojito and slid it across the bar. “What’s on your mind? You look more out-of-sorts than usual.”

“Well…” Akira took a sip of his drink, trying to figure out how to explain in a way that was coherent and didn’t blow their cover wide open. “There’s this boy…”

Ever since that day in Leblanc, his thoughts had been stuck on Akechi. Akechi smiling into his coffee. Akechi looking indignant at the failings of the justice system that had landed Akira in Tokyo. Akechi looking like a skittish deer at the broken mug. It certainly didn’t help that Akechi had apparently been serious about making Leblanc his go-to cafe, because he kept showing up, and actually looked relaxed when he did. Akira knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t help wanting to see more, learn more about what Akechi was like when he wasn’t smiling for the cameras. Be around him, even if it was just in the quiet of Leblanc.

“Ooh, young love~” Lala cooed, putting away the bottle of sparkling water and leaning on the bar in front of him. “Do tell.”

Akira ducked his head, praying he wasn’t turning pink. “I think I might, um...like him. But it’s complicated.”

“When _isn’t_ love complicated, hun?” Lala said.

“I don’t think it’s love yet!” Akira yelped. “Anyway, he’s...really closed off. I think he’s hiding a lot of things about himself, and I don’t know how to get through to him. And my friends don’t like him.”

“That _is_ complicated,” Lala mused. “Why don’t your friends like him?”

Akira bit his lip. “They don’t think he’s good for me. They think the stuff he’s hiding is probably bad news, and that he’d end up hurting me.” Which was close enough to the truth. Akechi getting them all arrested and _possibly_ being a murderer would definitely hurt them all. “I haven’t told them I like him like that, but they already aren’t sure about me trying to be friends with him. And I don’t want to cause a fight.”

The bartender hummed thoughtfully. “I can see where that might be an issue. But if you do like this boy enough to try, just don’t lie to your friends about it. That’ll make it worse in the long run. If they’re your friends, they can at least try to understand where you’re coming from.”

“Okay. Thank you, Lala-chan,” Akira murmured, though he wasn’t sure he believed her. This was so much bigger than she could possibly understand, and he couldn’t tell her the full story.

Lala poured herself a glass of rum and coke and winked at him. “So tell me about this boy you like. Is he handsome?”

“He’s...really attractive,” Akira admitted. “He’s got brown hair, and his eyes are sort of…” He cast around the bar, and finally pointed at the wine rack that stood in the corner. “Sort of the same color as the merlot, but with more brown. And he’s really dedicated to his job. He always seems a little tired when I see him, but he covers it up really well.” He stared at his mojito. “From what I know, he didn’t have a happy childhood. He seems a lot like me and my friends, like the world wasn’t fair to him, and I just feel like I could help him if I could get him to open up to me a little more…”

When he looked up again, Lala was smiling at him, and he immediately shrunk back. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. You’ve just clearly got it bad for this kid, whoever he is,” Lala said, still smiling, and Akira buried his face in his hands. 

“Oh no…”

Lala chuckled at him, leaving him be to finish getting the bar ready for the evening rush. There were always a lot of patrons right after the last movie let out for the night, and that time was fast approaching. Akira finished his mojito, sliding the glass back across the bar and asking finally, “Hey, do you need any help?”

The bartender looked over her shoulder at him. “You’re underage. I couldn’t let you touch the alcohol.”

“I can wash dishes or something, if that would help,” Akira said. “Please? You always let me in here; I’d like to do _something_.”

“Dishes would definitely help me get out of here quicker at the end of the night,” Lala admitted. “All right. Come on around and grab an apron.”

“I don’t have to dress up?” Akira asked, a hint of his usual grin returning.

Lala winked at him. “Maybe next time, hun.”

***

Akira spent a few hours doing dishes, chatting with inebriated patrons, and watching Lala manage the bar like a queen reigning over her court. At the end of the night, the bartender passed him a crisp 5000 yen bill, which he immediately tried to reject.

“I just wanted to help out!” he stammered. “That’s way too much!”

“Take it,” Lala insisted. “Treat your little crush to a nice dinner or something. And come back if you ever want to wash some more dishes; you did better work than any other part-timer I ever tried to hire.”

Akira groaned, but accepted the money, tucking it into a pocket. Being paid under the table as an underage worker at a bar was tamer than his usual shenanigans, at least.

Lala insisted on walking him to the train station once the bar was closed up, and he caught the last train back to Yongen, sinking into his thoughts once he’d found a seat. She was right, of course. He shouldn’t keep things from his friends. But he knew, deep down, that they would object to him getting any closer than he already was, unless it was purely for information. Which, Akira could honestly admit to himself that it wasn’t anymore. He wanted to _know_ Akechi Goro. And he couldn’t tell his friends that, because they would tell him to stop. Makoto’s reaction that morning was evidence enough of that.

It wasn’t the time to do anything that could jeopardize the team. With the public more and more excited about the Thieves, they had to focus on more important things, like choosing their next target. Akira was not going to be the cause of a fight. So he would just...be quiet, like he usually was. If they thought it was for information, it would all work out in the end.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you hear that? That’s the sound of me ignoring when confidantes are actually available. 
> 
> “But Li, why did you leave the Ghibli movie titles alone, but then use things like “Star Battles” and the weird video game names?” I don’t know, guys. I thought Super Luigi World was funny and went for it. XDDD
> 
> Akira’s childhood obviously wasn’t remotely like Akechi’s, but one thing he did learn was that if someone (his parents) might disapprove, it’s better to just be quiet and not mention whatever it is. He’s too used to never winning an argument, and being blamed when things go wrong. Which isn’t exactly a healthy way to do things, but you do what you have to in order to avoid a fight when you always end up on the losing side.


	15. Aug. 24, 2016 - The Monsters in Your Head

Was it a bad thing to visit a cafe four times in ten days? Goro didn’t know, but he walked out of the precinct trying to convince himself not to make it five.

He couldn’t even make the excuse that he was visiting Leblanc to keep tabs on Kurusu, because Kurusu had only been there on one of his four visits after that first one. Something about the atmosphere was calming; he felt like he could sit quietly and no one would mind him. He’d spent one evening in a booth, homework scattered about as he tried to catch up, and Kurusu had brought him coffee refills without even having to be asked. He’d spent an evening at the counter, chatting idly with Sakura-san as they worked on crosswords. And he’d spent Saturday glued to the TV for two hours, catching up on the episode of Featherman he’d missed and watching the new one as he sipped his coffee.

It was only when he was halfway to Yongen, breezing down the sidewalk on his bike, that he realized his subconscious had made the decision for him. But he deserved an evening of quiet. He’d had a phone call from Shido earlier, which was never a pleasant experience. Sae was getting closer to pinning down Okumura Kunikazu as being related to the mental shutdowns, and once Goro had informed Shido of that fact, the man had already started adjusting his plans to deal with the situation. He’d always intended to lure the Thieves into some kind of trap, and now the trap had the ideal bait. He was going to get one of his many associates to hack the ‘phan-site’ and rig the poll to get the Thieves to target Okumura. Goro could guess how things would go after that.

The public would turn on the Thieves almost instantly if one of their targets died, after all. Goro was almost impressed. Shido’s plan so far had been so very similar to his own that it was almost discomfiting. He’d raised the Thieves to the height of popularity, and now he was going to bring them crashing to earth and watch them break.

_Like father, like son,_ Loki whispered, and Goro almost crashed his bike into a streetlight.

“Shut up,” he hissed. He was nothing like Shido. Shido was grabbing at power, while he was trying to right a wrong. He refused to believe otherwise.

***

When Goro walked into Leblanc, Sakura-san was watching the news. They were running some fluff piece on Phantom Thieves merchandise, and he turned away from it immediately when he heard the bell. Goro tried to pretend he wasn’t slightly disappointed that it wasn’t Kurusu behind the counter.

“Oh, it’s you,” Sakura-san said, as Goro took his regular seat. “Having the usual today, or trying something new?”

“Just the usual, I think,” Goro replied, privately amazed that after only a few visits, the barista knew his ‘usual’: Blue Mountain, one cream, three sugars. The cynical part of him said it was just because there were so few customers that visited the cafe. The optimistic part of him, as tiny and quiet as it was, hoped it was because Sakura-san might actually care.

He watched the rest of the news report idly, mouth twisting in disapproval. Merchandise with the logo of the Phantom Thieves was one thing, but to go so far as to commercially manufacture calling cards? That was asking for trouble. It could easily muddle the investigation. Not that he was overly concerned, since he already knew who the Thieves were, but it was going to make Sae’s job harder.

“What do you think of the Thieves?” he found himself asking, and Sakura-san raised an eyebrow.

“I think all of this excitement is ridiculous,” he said firmly. “It’s definitely a good thing that the crimes their targets committed were exposed, but treating them like superheroes when we don’t even know their methods? People are getting too worked up.” He sighed. “Plus, it’s all the news will talk about. Thieves this, Thieves that, politicians commenting on it and the opinions of random people on the streets… Shouldn’t it be about time to start covering the elections coming up at the end of the year?”

“Ah, but that ties back to the Thieves as well,” Goro pointed out. “People are losing trust in the police and the current administration. Unless they can regain the public’s favor, the election may not go well.”

Sakura-san made a noise of agreement, prepping Goro’s cup of coffee and passing it across to him. “I’m going to mix up a fresh batch of curry, so just call if you need a refill or decide you want some,” he said, and Goro nodded.

“I will. Thank you.”

***

As closing time approached, Goro set down his third empty mug and started packing up the trigonometry homework he’d been working on. He tucked it into his briefcase beside his case files, and fished into his pocket for his wallet. Sakura-san, wiping down the other end of the counter, noticed what he was doing and held up a hand.

“Nope. Coffee today’s on the house,” he said.

Goro blinked at him. “What?”

“I’m not taking your money today. That’s what.”

“Wait, you…” Goro fumbled his wallet open. “I can’t let you do that. I had three cups and I sat in here until closing. I’m sure you would have preferred to close up and go home early.” Nothing was free. He couldn’t afford this being held over him in some way.

Sakura-san came over to lean on the counter in front of him. “Look, kid. I have customers that come in here and spend four hours sitting around with a single cup of coffee. At least you order refills,” he said. “You seem like a good kid, and you’re always welcome here, understand? And today, your coffee is on the house.”

Goro smiled, reluctantly putting his wallet away. “Thank you, sir.”

Loki twisted inside his mind. _You killed his daughter’s mother. You might have to kill both of his children. You shouldn’t be here._

He swallowed the nausea the words inspired, trying to invoke Robin Hood in their place, but his other persona could only offer a tentative, _You had no choice_. Which wasn’t quite as effective when he couldn’t dissociate from the situation. But he did his best to ignore Loki. He liked this place, and he liked Sakura-san, and for now, he was welcomed. It was enough.

Fortunately he was saved from his own gnawing thoughts by Kurusu, who stumbled through the cafe’s door with, in addition to his usual cat-occupied bag, a small duffel bag and a plastic bag in each hand. The extra bags were stuffed to the gills with what appeared to be...garbage.

“Again?” Sakura-san sighed, and Goro realized that Kurusu coming home with bags of barely-identifiable trash was apparently at least a semi-regular occurance.

Kurusu didn’t respond to his guardian, instead turning a lopsided, million-yen smile on Goro. “Hey, Akechi. How are you?”

Goro wanted to just stare at him blankly, but he forced his usual mask into place. “I’m well. I would ask how you’re doing, but you appear to have been quite busy today.”

Kurusu seemed to belatedly realize that Goro could see all of his assorted bags of junk. “Er… It’s for the recycling center. The extra money comes in handy.”

It wasn’t a lie, but Goro knew it wasn’t the entire truth, either. He recognized some of the scraps sticking out of the plastic bags as the sort of debris that lay scattered around Mementos. He’d never picked any of it up himself because he had neither the time nor the contacts to clean it up and sell it, but apparently it was lucrative enough that the Phantom Thieves bothered. “Don’t you have a job?”

“Yeah, but a single part-time job doesn’t pay for Morgana’s fancy tuna.” Kurusu winked at him.

Goro rolled his eyes. “Ah yes, I forget how much you dote on your cat. I hope he knows how much you love him.”

There was a certain warmth that filled Kurusu’s eyes as he said, “Yeah. I do too.” Goro didn’t know what to do when that warmth was turned in his direction, and grabbed his briefcase with an incline of his head.

“Well, I have to be going now, but I wish you luck with sorting all of that out. Have a good evening, Kurusu-kun.” Goro made his exit quickly, barely slowing long enough to hear Kurusu wishing him a good night in return. What on earth was wrong with him? That expression hadn’t even been directed at him.

_Perhaps you wish it was, though._

Oh, _now_ Robin wanted to chime in. Goro groaned quietly, unlocking his bike from the rack and stowing his briefcase. He didn’t give a damn about whether the leader of the Phantom Thieves thought of him with any kind of fondness. That would only complicate things later. And in any case, even if he did wish for such a thing, there was no way Kurusu would reciprocate such a feeling. No one would, if they knew what he was really like.

That was just his lot in life.

***

Morgana whined the second he was allowed out of Akira’s bag. “Is he just going to be here all the time, now?”

Akira shrugged, dropping the bags of junk from Mementos on the floor. “I don’t mind,” he said. “More opportunities to talk to him without it looking like I’m stalking him.” He pushed the bags to one side, kicking off his shoes and changing into sweatpants. “I think I’m gonna call Kawakami-sensei to help with this stuff. There’s more than usual.”

“Don’t change the subject!” Morgana objected. “Aren’t you the least bit worried about Akechi figuring out who we are?”

“Nope,” Akira said with his best shit-eating grin, already on the way downstairs to call his teacher. Once she’d confirmed she was on her way, he dragged out the scrub brushes and buckets, filling the buckets and hauling them upstairs. Kawakami had helped him out with this sort of thing before, and didn’t ask too many questions, which he appreciated a lot. Takemi had already pinned him down as a Thief. He didn’t need his teacher figuring it out, too.

He had a feeling it was going to be inevitable, though.

Kawakami complained a bit when she realized it was going to be one of those visits, but she sat beside him with the other scrub brush, and together they got the metal scraps clean of all the grime from the subway.

“You must be really diligent if you’re picking all of this up, Master,” she commented offhandedly. “This is even more than last time you called me over here.”

Akira shrugged. “It accumulates.” Over a few hours in Mementos, but if she thought it took weeks, so be it. “Besides, this is better than trying to drive back the ever-present dust of the attic, right? At least there’s visible progress here.”

Kawakami sighed. “I don’t know how you live here and don’t have asthma.”

“It’s a talent.”

They worked in comfortable silence for a while, before Kawakami reached into the duffel for the next piece and pulled out a vial of silvery liquid. Her eyes widened, and she set the brush down very slowly. “Kurusu-kun? What is this?”

Akira swallowed hard. “It’s a...It’s for something else.” Shit. He knew he should have pre-sorted the bags, but he was lazy. And now he was in trouble. Feeling Morgana’s judgmental eyes boring into him from the bed, he added, “Would you believe me if I told you that it’s for an independent project?”

Kawakami fixed him with a flat look. “Is this drugs?”

“No!” Akira yelped. “It’s mercury, sensei, I promise!”

“Mercury.” Kawakami sighed. “I’m not going to ask, okay? Just make sure you’re not mixed up in anything bad.”

Akira had a sudden, distinct thought that maybe Kawakami had already figured him out. So he just nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion and kept cleaning. As they worked their way to the end of the bags, Kawakami finally asked, “What do you do with all of this extra money, anyway?”

Akira started picking up the empty plastic bags to throw away. “Pay for a maid service,” he said cheekily, but then he smiled softly. The money was for the Thieves, for medicine and weapons, but he’d been socking away funds from his other part-time jobs for a different goal. “I’m going to take a nice boy to dinner, if he’ll agree to go with me,” he said.

Kawakami looked as if she couldn’t decide if she thought he was kidding. “Well, Master, I hope that he does. You’ve worked hard for your extra money.” She got up and curtseyed, and Akira fished in his pocket for the 5000 yen he owed her for her help. When she took it, she added, “When the school year starts again, I’m going to quit this job, so I won’t be “Becky” anymore. But if you still need help, you can still call me, all right?”

“Sensei…” Akira was glad that she was taking that step. It was easy to see how much confidence she’d gained since the beginning of the year. “Thank you.”

***

After Kawakami left, Akira stretched out on his bed, and Morgana padded over to curl up in the crook of his arm. “I’d ask if you were serious about asking Akechi out to dinner, but I already know the answer.”

“Why are you assuming I meant Akechi?” Akira teased, but before Morgana could respond, he continued, “I already know you don’t trust him. But you trust me, right?”

“Of course I trust you. You’re our leader,” Morgana huffed. “I still think he’s just playing you.”

“Maybe I’m playing him.” Akira wiggled his fingers dramatically. “I’m going to take him to a fancy dinner and woo him over to our side, and then we can arrest him for being the Black Mask.”

“We’re not the police!” Morgana boffed his face with a paw. “You should go to bed before you get any more ridiculous.”

“Yes, mom,” Akira drawled, obediently rearranging his pillows. He had the beginnings of a crazy idea forming, but he needed to come up with a more concrete plan and better justifications for it before he sprung it on the rest of the team. ‘Let’s just tell Akechi and see what he does’ wasn’t a great opening statement. But at this point, Akira was sorely tempted to take the risk. If it was just him on the line, he might have already done it.

Hopefully spending more time with Akechi would give him more evidence that he wasn’t making a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **THOU HAST ACQUIRED A NEW VOW**   
>  **CONFIDANTE SOJIRO SAKURA**   
>  **HIEROPHANT RANK 1**   
> 
> 
> Writing a slow burn is so weird because I haven’t actually done it in ages. Since for the original Hours I just sort of started at the end. XDDD So my brain is like “Are you sure they can’t kiss yet?” and I’m just over here like, “We’ve talked about this, look at the notes document, we have to do September, chill.”
> 
> Something important is going down on September 4th, though. ;)
> 
> Next chapter: Someone asked way back in chapter 1 about that bike stuffed into the corner of Akira’s attic, IIRC... :P
> 
> Merry Christmas, to all of you that celebrate it, and Happy Holiday-of-Choice if you don’t! I hope all of you are doing well out there. ^_^


	16. Aug. 27, 2016 - Careful Waltzing Steps

Ann and Ryuji had never been to a high school with dorms before, so visiting Yusuke at Kosei was a completely new experience. He had to let them in at the main door because ID cards were required to get into the building, and they looked around curiously as they followed him back upstairs to his room. He’d gotten a single, and the space where a roommate’s bed would usually be was occupied by the easel and other supplies that had once occupied his room at Madarame’s atelier.

“I’m glad that you could come. Unfortunately I put off this assignment longer than I meant to,” Yusuke said as they kicked off their shoes beside the door. “Akira has been accompanying me to Mementos for my independent study project, but I’m required to do a figure-drawing assignment as part of the general requirements.”

“You promised we didn’t have to be naked, so of course we’ll help,” Ann said, coming over and peering at the sketchbooks scattered around. “What kind of pose do you want us to do?”

Yusuke got them a chair, arranging Ann in a seated pose and Ryuji on the floor beside her, leaning against the side of the chair. Ryuji propped an arm on his knee as Yusuke moved them into position like oversized dolls. “Are we gonna be allowed to talk, or…?”

“Talking will not bother me. Just please do not move,” Yusuke said, making a final adjustment to how Ann’s head was tilted and then stepping back to his easel. “It will not take me as long as it did the last time that you modeled for me, I promise.”

“Thank god,” Ryuji sighed. “Did Akira not want to come help today?”

“I texted him, but he said he was doing something this afternoon,” Ann replied, since Yusuke had already descended into ‘art mode’. “He didn’t say what, though.”

Holding still was harder than he’d originally thought it would be, but Ryuji made a heroic effort anyway. “Prolly wants a break. Makoto’s been nagging him about Akechi, and all the fuss with the phan-site…”

“We deserve a break after Medjed nearly gave us all heart attacks.” Ann almost reached to push her hair back behind her shoulder, but stopped herself at the last moment. “We should go out after this and have dinner. We can take Yusuke too. Isn’t there some new ramen shop opening up in Dogenzaka?”

“Yeah, but I dunno how it could be better than the one in Ogikubo,” Ryuji countered. “Considering they named it ‘Shadow Ramen’ it’s prolly just some gimmicky thing and the food’s not that good.”

“Worth a try, at least,” Ann said.

There was companionable quiet for a long while after that, broken only by the faint skritch of Yusuke’s pencils, and then eventually Ryuji asked, “So how are your parents? Have they heard about all the Phantom Thief hype? My mom thinks the Thieves are great, especially after we took down Medjed.”

Ann rolled her eyes. She could hear the grin in his voice, even without looking at him. “They’ve been really busy setting up a show in Helsinki. So they’ve sort of seen the news in passing, but mostly the stuff about Kamoshida and Madarame. They were more worried about Shiho, honestly.”

“Well, yeah. She got the brunt of that asshole’s behavior. She’s doing better now, though, right?”

“Yeah. Her parents want her to transfer school, though, and...I get why, but it’s still hard.” Swallowing hard, she forced a laugh. “It’ll be better for her, to be somewhere where people won’t look at her weird all the time, since her name was never made public. I just… I’ll miss her. A lot.”

“It is always difficult to be parted from someone you care deeply for,” Yusuke said, and both of them startled, not realizing he was done with his drawing. “I am certain that you will keep in touch, though, and she will not be far away. And we will continue to support you as well.”

Ann stared at him, then reached up to scrub at her eyes. “Thank you, Yusuke…”

“Dude, you come off as a total space alien sometimes, but that was good.” Ryuji got up, stretching with an audible groan after sitting on the floor for so long. “Dunno if you heard since you were in the zone, but Ann wants to go to some new ramen place. You coming?”

“That sounds excellent, thank you,” Yusuke said as he put away his sketching pencils. “Although I am not sure how I resemble a space alien.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ann giggled. “It’s a good thing.”

***

Akira, after nearly falling down the stairs and earning an exasperated look from Sojiro, had managed to at last get the old bicycle rotting in his attic down and out to the street. After inflating the tires properly and checking the brakes, Akira tested it out, riding up and down the backstreets before wheeling out into Yongen-Jaya proper.

He was grateful that all their exploits in the Palaces and Mementos had given him a lot of stamina, because otherwise the ride to his destination would have left him on the sidewalk, gasping for breath. As it was, he rolled up in front of the police precinct with time to spare and perched himself on the bench beside the bike rack, so he was waiting with a smile when Akechi walked out of the building.

He was with Makoto’s sister, the prosecutor, and they were chatting about something. But Akechi stopped dead when he spotted Akira, genuine surprise on his face for a split-second of glorious honesty.

Akira was proud of himself, like he’d won something.

“Kurusu-kun?” Akechi asked, sounding puzzled.

Niijima-san glanced between the two boys. “Hello. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before…”

Akira suddenly felt awkward. They’d seen each other just once, at Leblanc, when Niijima-san had been attempting to get information out of Sojiro about Futaba’s mother’s research. Not the best circumstances. Before he could figure out an answer, Akechi smiled at her.

“He’s the barista at Leblanc, the cafe you recommended to me. We’ve become acquaintances.”

Akira mentally pouted at not even being labeled a friend, especially after that heart-to-heart about their tragic backstories. But Niijima-san nodded, saying, “Ah, yes, I remember now. Makoto has mentioned you, too. It’s good to meet you, Kurusu-kun.”

“You too, Niijima-san,” Akira said brightly, trying to hide his wariness. Funny how the prosecutor was making him more nervous than the detective that probably knew who they were and might be a killer.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll see you soon, Akechi-kun.”

Niijima-san left, and Akechi walked down to unlock his bike, adjusting his shoulder bag. “What brings you here, Kurusu-kun? This seems a bit out of your way.”

Akira shrugged. “You mentioned that you ride your bike a lot, so I was wondering if you wanted to go on a ride and maybe get some dinner afterwards? There’s this nice Western-style Italian place in Ginza, and the food seemed like it would be good. My treat, of course.”

He practically held his breath afterwards. Now that he’d said it out loud, it sounded like a date. It definitely sounded like a date, and there was absolutely no way that Akechi wasn’t going to notice how much it sounded like a date, and he was going to turn Akira down when Akira had _meant_ to be a lot more subtle than that. Akechi wasn’t looking at him, pulling his bike from the rack, and just when Akira was prepared to apologize and run for it Akechi glanced back and said, “That’s the one near that fancy sushi restaurant, yes? I’ve never been there before.”

“Want to go, then? You can show me your favorite bike routes on the way,” Akira replied, ignoring Arsène laughing at his less-than-perfect charm in the back of his mind.

Suspicion flickered in Akechi’s expression for just a second, but then he smiled. “I would like that, I think. You’ll have for forgive me if work calls me away in the middle of things, though.”

Akira shook his head. “Your job’s busy. I get it.”

Akechi gestured casually at the rack. “Get your bike, then. I hope you can keep up.”

“Hm.” Akira grabbed his bike, grinning at the flagrant challenge. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Akechi-kun~”

***

There were a lot more small parks in Tokyo than Akira had realized.

Akechi took them on a winding route that avoided main roads, snaking through small streets filled with tiny, eclectic shops and the occasional secret-looking patch of neat grass and trees, small oases in the endless concrete of Tokyo’s streets. Despite the detective’s teasing, Akira kept up with him relatively easily, though he was sure that if Akechi had decided to seriously ride all-out he’d have been left in the dust. They arrived in Ginza with little fanfare, chaining their bikes up nearby and approaching the restaurant. 

After a short wait, they were ushered to a table off to one side, and Akechi looked around curiously. “This is surprisingly fancy ambiance. Can you really afford this?” he asked, then caught himself. “I apologize, that’s really none of my business. You invited me, after all.”

“It’s okay,” Akira said, privately delighted that Akechi seemed to be picking up a tendency to blurt things out by accident around him. “I picked up another part-time job, and the pay is good.”

“Really, now? What are you, other than a barista and a...florist, I believe you said?” Akechi flipped through the menu curiously.

A waiter came by to get their drink orders, and after he left again, Akira leaned forward conspiratorially. “Yep, florist. And… I don’t know if I should tell you what my other job is. It’s a little less than legal,” he whispered. He was blatantly baiting Akechi, and was sure Akechi knew it, but he was hoping the detective would play along anyway.

And Akechi didn’t disappoint. “Oh?” he said, leaning in as well, menu forgotten for the moment. “Is it wise to mention something like that to the police?” There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes, and Akira wanted to push farther, to see if he could earn a real smile, a laugh.

“You’re not the normal police,” he said lightly. “The truth is…” Hesitating just long enough to make Akechi raise an eyebrow, he beamed. “I’m a bartender.”

“A...bartender?” Dubiously, Akechi looked him up and down. “That’s… You’re not old enough to drink. How did you manage that?”

“Friend of mine runs a bar. And I guess technically I’m not a bartender because she won’t let me touch the alcohol. I wash the dishes,” Akira admitted.

It ended up being exactly the right thing to say, because Akechi was forced to stifle a laugh behind a gloved hand. “My… You’re quite over-dramatic, aren’t you?” he said.

Akira puffed up, exaggeratedly proud. “I’ll stop being over-dramatic when I’m dead.”

Akechi picked the menu back up, shaking his head. “I would be lying if I said it wasn’t at least mildly entertaining.” He pointed at something in the menu. “Have you ever had gnocchi?”

After some debate (and looking up a few unfamiliar words), Akechi ordered the gnocchi and grilled chicken in a cream sauce, and Akira picked a simple shrimp alfredo. Things were quiet when their food was delivered, but it wasn’t awkward, and Akira finally commented, “Italian food is so much richer than Japanese food. It’s kinda weird.”

“They certainly have a distinct love for cream and garlic,” Akechi agreed. He took another bite of gnocchi. “I wonder if this could be considered a Western equivalent to mochi? They’re both a chewy sort of dough, after all.”

Akira just shrugged, his mouth full, and Akechi leaned his head on one hand, watching Akira attentively. “What have you been up to lately, other than your myriad part-time jobs and trips to the recycling center?”

“Trying to win another Jack Frost out of the crane machine in Akihabara,” Akira said, once he’d swallowed. “I had really good luck the first time I went there, but none since. I’m worried they’re going to switch out the prize soon.”

“If you already have one, why do you need another?” Akechi asked.

“It’s a gift.” Technically, they were both going to be gifts. Akira wasn’t going to dare make the mistake of offering one thing to two people. Especially not _those_ two people. “I’ve got a younger friend that likes Jack Frost. What about you? Still stuck doing interviews where they bother you about the Phantom Thieves?”

He almost regretted asking when Akechi’s expression clouded, but the detective just waved a hand dismissively. “They do keep asking if I’ve changed my stance after Medjed, which I have not. Changing hearts, depending on the method used, doesn’t seem like a moral way to engineer a confession. But…” He looked up, searching Akira’s expression for something, and he seemed to find it, because he said, “Don’t tell anyone that I said this, but I don’t believe that the Thieves are bad people. Misguided, perhaps. In over their heads, for certain, but… Sae-san is attempting to draw a comparison between the changes of heart and the mental shutdowns, like I did a month ago, but I don’t believe now that the Thieves would be capable of killing someone.”

It was reassuring, that Akechi didn’t think they were evil. Unless he was lying to Akira’s face, knowing he was a thief. There were so many possible levels to this conversation; it was really just reinforcing Akira’s desire to simplify things a little. But what really stuck out was _‘depending on the method’_. Akechi, as a fellow metaverse user, didn’t seem to know how they caused the changes of heart. Maybe if he knew they weren’t causing any damage…

Unless he was the Black Mask. In that case, everything was irrelevant. But as counterpoint to what Akechi had just said, Akira couldn’t picture the detective killing anyone either.

“Kurusu-kun?”

Akira realized he’d been thinking too hard and reached up to tug at his bangs. “Sorry. That’s the prosecutor, right? She really thinks the Thieves are causing the mental shutdowns? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Exactly,” Akechi said. “There’s no similarities between the targets, and there’s no reason why they would reform criminals who committed heinous acts, like Kamoshida, and kill others for potentially lesser offenses.”

If Akechi was lying, he was a master at it. If Akechi was trying to bait Akira into saying something incriminating, he was less of a master at that, but it was entertaining anyway. “I trust your judgment on that one, detective, but I would still believe in the Thieves in the end.”

Akechi stared at him for a tense moment, his maroon eyes intense, before he looked back down at his food with a faint smile. “Understandable. We may disagree on their overall justice, but I respect your opinion.”

It was going to drive Akira crazy, not being able to tell if he was sincere or not. Words surged, and he clamped his mouth firmly shut, not trusting himself not to just _ask_.

_Do you know about the metaverse?_

There were so many things he could ask Akechi, but he had to keep up his facade for now. Besides, the longer he went without knowing the truth, the longer he could get away with pretending they were genuinely spending time together. That this could be an actual date. That he wasn’t afraid his friends were going to lose their minds if he admitted to this probably-unwise crush on a boy who had the potential to be their downfall.

So for now, he stayed quiet.

***

By the time they left the restaurant, it had gotten dark, and after they unchained their bikes Akira glanced up at the sky from force of habit. If there was one thing he missed about his hometown, it was that there was a lot less light pollution. But a single speck of light was visible, and his eyes widened. “Oh, a star. I didn’t think you could see them from the city.”

Akechi looked up as well. “I think it’s a planet, actually. Venus should be rising this time of year.”

Akira dragged his eyes from the tiny spot to the other boy, incredulous. “I didn’t take you to be an astronomer, too.”

“Well…” Akechi shrugged awkwardly. “In addition to Featherman, I enjoyed fantasy and sci-fi as well. I’ve seen all the Star Battles movies, and I read quite a bit about space as a child.”

“We should go somewhere where we can see more stars, one day,” Akira said, looking back up at the solitary pinprick of light visible above them. “The Skytree wasn’t here last time I visited, but from the top observation deck of Tokyo Tower, everything looks far-away. If we went to the top of the Skytree, it might look like stars. Or we could try the planetarium. But the real thing is better, I think. You can see a lot of stars from my hometown.”

“You would want me to meet your parents?” Akechi said, a hint of teasing in his tone. Akira wanted to believe he was trying to flirt, but he couldn’t help his expression falling at the mention of his parents, and Akechi seemed to realize his mistake. “Forgive me, I forgot that your parents might be a sensitive subject for you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Akira said lightly, determined not to let the reminder of his situation ruin the evening. “Just, I didn’t realize we were that far along in our relationship. This is only our second date.”

He could practically see the gears turning in Akechi’s head before the detective’s eyes widened and he spluttered, “This was-- Did you intend this to be--” 

Akira had never seen him so inarticulate, and it was adorable. A pink flush was spreading across his nose and cheeks, barely visible in the lighting in front of the restaurant, and the knowledge that he was getting to see a version of Akechi that other people didn’t made him feel content. That uncomposed face… he was going to treasure the memory of that.

...he was in deep, wasn’t he? And honestly, he didn’t know how to do this. He’d never dated anyone before, much less now as a criminal delinquent. What a notion, though. The mysterious phantom thief and the detective determined to catch him.

_A romantic notion, for certain_ , Arsène purred. _But you are thinking too long, little thief. You cannot steal a heart with silence._

Akira smiled and quipped, just in time before the silence became weird, “Only if you want it to be.”

Akechi stared at him, stared and stared as if he was looking for the secrets of the universe in his eyes. “I… I should be getting home. Thank you for dinner, Kurusu-kun. I had a good time.” He grabbed his bike, turning away quickly.

“Akechi…” Akira began, reaching to stop him. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, just that he wasn’t ready for Akechi to leave just yet. He had a weird impulse to apologize, but at the same time, he didn’t _regret_ flirting with the other boy.

But his hand dropped back to his side when Akechi glanced back, something guarded and uncertain in his expression. “Yes?”

Akira smiled, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as it felt. “Have a good night. Sweet dreams.” He could hear the distant sound of Morgana screeching with disapproval even when the cat wasn’t present. Maybe Akechi would take his words as teasing, maybe not. But there was something in the detective’s eyes that made Akira think that his words had gotten through, and Akechi stammered quickly, “T-The same to you,” and was on his bike and gone before Akira could even think of anything else to say.

Left alone in front of the restaurant, Akira sighed. That was it. This had gone on long enough. He needed to find a time, talk to his team, and come up with a way to do something about this. If Akechi knew about them, they would deal with it. If he was the Black Mask… Akira would be very unhappy, but they would deal with it. And if they could lay out the truth, and everything was okay...maybe they could stop having conversations with ten possible layers and nuances and just have one. Maybe he would feel less like having feelings for Akechi was putting him one step from some sort of punishment.

But he was a phantom thief now. He was Joker, fearless Leader of Hearts. He shouldn’t be afraid of retribution from anyone. And yet...he was. Over a crush, of all things.

So he needed to settle this ambiguity about Akechi, once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akira: [“Was I wrong to take this bound? ‘Cause I’m in love with what I’ve found…”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pjqJEIfK0S4)  
> Akechi: [“No chance, no way, it’s too cliché.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIjqsWiUoR4)  
> Morgana, in the distance: “Why are you like this.”
> 
> I hope everyone’s holiday was good! Nevermind skipping today, here I am, work was quiet today and writing banter just happens. And I finally get to start linking to stuff from my playlist! This chapter actually wasn’t meant to be this long, but Akira and Goro just sort of...go, and I don’t bother to stop them. Let them earn some points towards the next rank-up. XD
> 
> I continue to know absolutely nothing about Kosei’s dorms. Fight me. But mostly I just want to show that they're doing things together outside of Phantom Thief stuff. The normal confidantes are still playing out as usual, but Akira isn’t the only one capable of being a pillar of support! Akechi’s not actually in love, though. Yet.
> 
> (PQ is killing me. I finally know about Zen and Rei. Oh my god.)
> 
> Shout-out to Atlus, besmirching the Day Satanael Saved Christmas with uncomfortable canon reveals and trailers that leave out important people like RYOJI and HAMUKO and **GORO.** Anyway, in light of the revelations from Sunday, I’m leaving a [link](http://twilightknight17.tumblr.com/post/169017177274/) to me rambling on the nature of names and what I think of what they chose. You can skip it if you don’t care. But the TL;DR version is: he’s Akira to me. And he’s staying Akira to me. So don’t worry about waking up one day and finding that I changed anything.


	17. Sept. 2, 2016 - Risk Assessment

**Chat: The Squad - Akira, Ryuji, Ann, and 3 others**

> _[Akira - 1:25pm] I need all of you to meet me at Leblanc after school. There’s something we have to talk about._
> 
> _[Ryuji - 1:29pm] Is it another emergency Mementos request?_
> 
> _[Akira - 1:33pm] No, there’s something I want to run by you all._
> 
> _[Ann - 1:33pm] We’ll all be there, then._
> 
> _[Futaba - 1:34pm] I’ll probably be there when you get home. :)_
> 
> _[Yusuke - 1:34pm] I shall leave as soon as class lets out._
> 
> _[Makoto - 1:36pm] Stop texting in class! We can talk at Leblanc._
> 
> _[Futaba - 1:36pm] I’m not in class. (∗´꒳`)_
> 
> _[Makoto - 1:37pm] Futaba._
> 
> _[Futaba - 1:37pm] (๑◕︵◕๑)_

School passed at what felt like a crawl, the clock slowing to the point where each tick felt like an eternity, giving Akira plenty of time to rethink his decision nine-hundred times over. But it was also no time at all, because when the last bell finally rang and Ann turned to him with a bright smile and said, “Ready to go?” he almost choked on air from nerves.

“Akira?” Ann asked, alarmed by the look on his face, and he waved her off with a casual hand.

“Sorry. Half a sneeze,” he said unconvincingly, opening his bag for Morgana to hop in. They headed out into the hallway, and Akira offered Midori a cheerful wave on the way by. The other boy turned away almost immediately and fled.

“What’s his problem?” Ann watched him go, confused.

Akira shrugged. “He still thinks I’m dangerous or something. Or a witch. He knows Morgana hangs out in my desk, but I think he’s too scared to tell anyone.”

“Akira told him I was an emotional support animal. Can you believe it?” Morgana demanded, but Ann just shrugged.

“That does seem like the best cover. Good thinking, Akira,” she praised, and Morgana whined quietly.

Ryuji and Makoto were waiting by the front gate, and after the train ride to Yongen and a stop at the convenience store for ice-cream bars, they made their way to Leblanc, where Futaba and Yusuke were waiting at the counter.

“Oh, all of you are here today,” Sojiro said, surprised. “Do you need anything, or are you just heading upstairs?”

Akira held up the plastic bag he was carrying. “We’ve got snacks and we’ll be in my room. And we’ll be quiet.”

Sojiro nodded. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need drinks or anything later.”

“Thanks.” Akira waved, leading his friends upstairs. They took up their usual perches around the room, on the couch and the bed and the extra chairs, and he sat down on the end of the bed after handing out the ice cream bars. He could feel the nervousness, like ice water in his veins, and he took a giant bite of ice cream to overcompensate. It wasn’t too late to change his mind; he could still come up with an excuse and take them to Mementos for the afternoon.

“What did you want to talk about, Leader?” Makoto asked, and all of them looked at him expectantly.

Akira swallowed hard, almost giving himself brainfreeze, and took a deep breath. These were his friends. They cared about him. And they were not going to turn on him for one risky decision. So he finally voiced the thought that had been chasing around his brain for days.

“I think we should confront Akechi about what he knows. And ask him to join us.”

Dead silence filled the attic before they all started talking at once. Akira couldn’t even keep up with what was being said through the jumble, but he could absolutely catch the overall negative reaction from the group. He held up a hand, hoping they would all defer to him in the real world like they did in the metaverse, and when they fell quiet again he pointed at Makoto and said, “Okay, you first.”

“Don’t you understand how dangerous that is?!” Makoto blurted. “We’re trying to figure out if he’s a murderer!”

“And we’re not going to get anywhere if we keep dancing around him like this.” Akira pointed at Ann. “Go.”

“If we tell him who we are and he _doesn’t_ want to join us, he’ll just go to the police and get us arrested,” she pointed out.

That was fair. Akira considered that, but Yusuke spoke up first. “He still wouldn’t have evidence, other than our word. Unless he is literally recording all of his and Akira’s conversations.”

The four original Phantom Thieves glanced at Makoto, who averted her eyes. “I… That would be illegal surveillance. Inadmissible in court, but probably enough to trigger an investigation.” That was what she had been threatening, after all.

Akira glanced at Ryuji, who shrugged. “I don’t like the guy. He’s a smug asshole. But at least if he’s on our side he’s not causin’ trouble, and we’d have more firepower. And he might know somethin’ about that bigwig at the top of the poll right now.”

“It would be beneficial to have an ally in the police,” Yusuke agreed. “He may be able to corroborate what information we manage to get from Makoto’s sister.”

“He’s also a huge dweeb,” Futaba pointed out. “I find it really hard to believe someone who’s that into Featherman could be a bad person.”

“Morgana?” Akira asked, glancing at the cat.

Morgana padded across the bed, bracing his paws on Akira’s thigh to look up with his bright blue eyes. “You really want to do this, don’t you?” he asked earnestly. Akira nodded, hesitantly, and Morgana bobbed his head in response. “You’re our leader. If you think this is the best course of action…”

Having heard everything they had to say, Akira rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m your leader, but I still care what you think. We’ll put it to a vote. And this isn’t a vote about whether you trust him, or like him. Just whether you want to try bringing him into the loop. All in favor?”

Everyone but Makoto put their hands up. Akira looked at Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, Morgana, and Futaba. “I guess that’s a solid answer, then. So the next question is, how do we approach him without giving away how long ago we figured it out?”

“The nav,” Morgana said immediately. “Persona-users don’t have shadows in the metaverse. We can say we looked up his name because of the poll or something, and realized he had a persona.”

“That’s actually a good plan,” Makoto admitted. “If he doesn’t know that we’ve known about him since June, it will be easier to see if his story doesn’t line up. Assuming he tells us the truth.”

“He’ll have to,” Akira said. “I want Morgana to talk in front of him. He’s definitely not a good enough actor to not react to a talking cat right in front of him.”

“Oh!” Morgana exclaimed. “That’s why you’ve been so careful about me not talking in front of him, so we could catch him off-guard later! Good thinking, Akira!”

Akira didn’t meet any of their eyes, absently running his hand down Morgana’s back and trying to figure out if he could be any more selfish. Yes, he wanted this to end, he wanted to know what Akechi’s truth was, but it was mostly for _himself_. And here was his team, oblivious to what a failure he was being. Why wasn’t Morgana the leader, again?

“So. How are we gonna pull off Operation Anti-Pancakes?” Ryuji asked. “We gotta get him alone if we’re gonna confront him.”

“‘Anti-Pancakes’? What are you talking about?” Ann asked.

Ryuji shrugged. “Him mentioning pancakes was his mistake. He gave us a clue, and we don’t want him to know that. So we’re gonna do the opposite, and give him a clue without mentioning pancakes.” Ann stared at him, and he said defensively, “It makes sense in my head, okay?!”

“I’ll talk to him here,” Akira said, cutting them off before they could start bickering. “He comes in for coffee often enough. Morgana and I will talk to him next time he’s here and Sojiro isn’t.”

Makoto frowned, still looking unconvinced. “You want to talk to him alone when he could be dangerous?”

“Hey!” Morgana cried. “I’ll be there!”

“You’re a cat in reality, Morgana, whether you like it or not. There’s only so much you could do.”

“It’ll be okay,” Akira said. “I don’t think he’d hurt me in Leblanc, even if he’s Black Mask, and Futaba will be watching through the bugs, I’m sure.” He fidgeted with his phone. “Besides, if he turns on us, he won’t have definitive proof of who the rest of you are. You can get to him before he can get to the police. And if he doesn’t, we can at least see what color his mask is.”

“If you say so…” Makoto said reluctantly, and they all settled in to put their heads together and figure out how to phrase their ambush so Akechi would be more likely to join them.

***

Eventually, Yusuke and Makoto had to leave to work on assignments and Ryuji headed out for his weekly gym visit, leaving Ann and Futaba in the attic. Futaba booted up Akira’s Famicom and put in Punch Ouch, and Ann scooted over to the bed so that she and Akira could both watch the game.

“You really want Akechi to be one of us, don’t you?” Ann asked quietly, once Futaba was absorbed in the game.

Akira sighed, slumping over until his head was in her lap. “Yeah,” he admitted after a moment. “There’s something about him… He’s like us. Somebody hurt him, a foster parent or something, and I just feel like we could all be on the same side if we just talked things out.”

“Even if he’s a murderer?” Ann pointed out, running her hand through his hair.

“I don’t think he is,” Akira murmured, eyes falling shut under the motion.

Morgana grumbled, climbing to curl up on Akira’s chest. “I don’t get why you like him so much when all he’s done is bad-mouth us.”

“He doesn’t think we’re bad people… He told me.”

Ann giggled, reaching with her free hand to pet Morgana as well. “Your face says it all, Akira,” she teased, and Akira bit his lip, turning on his side to hide the flush he knew was forming. “It’s okay,” she assured him. “I don’t understand completely, but… It’s not like you can help it.”

“Help what?” Morgana asked, clambering back up after being dumped from his spot atop Akira. “What’s his face saying?”

“Nothing, Morgana. It’s a secret~” Ann winked at the cat, quieting his protests with a well-timed scritch behind the ears and earning a reluctant purr.

Akira was grateful that she wasn’t going to say any more, although he really should have expected her, of all people, to notice. Her or Yusuke, although it was equally likely that Yusuke had noticed and misinterpreted, he supposed. At least he had one sort-of ally in this mess.

Things were never meant to get this complicated. He’d been sent to Tokyo so things would calm down; and look where he was now.

***

Morgana went to bed early that night, leaving Akira sitting at the desk, getting one last element set made and glancing at his phone every so often.

Part of him wanted to text his mother, but at this point, he didn’t know what to say or how to describe his time in Tokyo without everything being a lie. He knew waiting for his parents to text first was probably a fruitless endeavor, but he couldn’t bring himself to be the first to reach out either. They’d still abandoned him.

He wondered if it was even a fraction of how Akechi must have felt growing up.

Eventually, he set his alarm and plugged the phone in to charge, leaving it on the desk and maneuvering around Morgana into bed. His parents wouldn’t want to hear from him anyway. He was about to do another stupid thing, inviting a potential disaster into his group of friends. Which he couldn’t even explain the context of properly, since it would involve outing himself as a Phantom Thief.

And he didn’t even want to imagine how disappointed they would be then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five minutes to midnight is still Saturday. Go me! X'D
> 
> This chapter feels much weaker to me, considering I rewrote those last bits like three times. But it’s mostly just setup for next chapter anyway, so I guess it’s all right. *shrug*
> 
> This is a stupid plan, but it’s a less stupid plan than “50/50 chance of being shot in the head”, so we’ll take it. :P Insert that Taylor Swift song that I regret works so well for P5 [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xp5_lws8l0E)
> 
> Next chapter: Canon breaks in half, and there’s no turning back. Oh, and we should probably start packing for Hawaii. ;)


	18. Sept. 4, 2016 - Roll the Dice

Akira got his chance two days later. Sojiro, after a slow day of maybe three customers, looked at Akira and Akechi, who were washing dishes and doing the crossword respectively, and went to get his hat.

“Akira, close up when Akechi leaves. I’m heading out to run a few errands before I go home,” he said, and Akira lifted a wet hand in a salute and flung water into his hair.

Akechi muffled a laugh as the door swung shut, and Akira finished up the last few mugs, trying to decide whether he was offended by the mirth at his expense. He settled on ‘no’, hyper-aware as Morgana hopped up onto the counter stool beside Akechi. The detective offered a tiny wave to the cat. “Hello, kitty.”

Morgana said nothing, and Akechi glanced at Akira. “What’s a fourteen-letter word for ‘dream sequence’?”

“Fourteen?” Akira questioned, drying his hands and coming over to look at the puzzle.

“It’s the long one in the center,” Akechi explained, pushing it across the counter so he could see it better.

Akira scrutinized it with a furrowed brow. There was a T, and M, and an OR already filled in, and he could feel the word on the tip of his tongue. He’d just seen it the other day, on the train; he’d been reading that book about Lovecraft and he’d had to look it up because he’d never seen it before. “Ah, I’ve got it. Phantasmagoria.”

Akechi skimmed the puzzle, then penciled it in, smiling. “Thank you, Kurusu, that helps a lot.”

“No problem.” Akira looked around the empty cafe curiously. “You always stay until closing.”

“I’m sorry, I know I must be keeping you,” Akechi said. He was still focused on the puzzle, but his eyes had stopped scanning the clues when Akira spoke. “There is just something that makes me feel comfortable here.”

Akira couldn’t help but selfishly hope, deep down, that he was part of the reason Akechi liked Leblanc. “I was just wondering what your apartment must be like, since you don’t seem to want to go home.”

“It’s a bit bare,” Akechi said. “I’m quite busy, so I’m rarely there except to make the occasional meal and fall asleep on the couch.”

“You’re not sleeping properly?” Akira asked, glancing at Morgana. “That’s not healthy.”

“I don’t have time.” It was spoken plainly, to the point. Akechi reached for his coffee.

“Maybe the Phantom Thieves should change your bosses’ hearts, so they’ll keep you less busy. Sleep is important!” Morgana chimed in.

“If they were to do that, they would have to be magic,” Akechi said, but then he froze, his coffee mug halfway to his mouth. He set it down, very slowly, and turned to look at the cat sitting on the seat beside him. “Ah… Kurusu, did your cat just…?”

Akira leaned on the counter, chin resting in his hand as he smiled. “Talk? Yeah. He can do that.”

Akechi took a deep breath. “Forgive me, I’m not...entirely sure how I am supposed to react to a talking cat.”

“I don’t know,” Akira said, still smiling. He was grateful for Arsène’s presence in the back of his mind, helping him keep an unaffected facade in place. “How did you react the first time you saw the metaverse?”

“Poorly,” Akechi said, obviously still rattled. As soon as the word was out of his mouth he went pale, the color draining from his face as he stared at Akira in shock. “How did you know that I know about the metaverse?”

“Well,” Akira said, beginning his carefully-crafted script for Operation Anti-Pancakes, “you can hear my cat. Only people that have been to the metaverse can hear my cat. And we checked the nav, and you don’t have a shadow, which means you have a persona. So I made a deduction, detective, and I’m taking a gamble.”

Akechi didn’t move, still looking shell-shocked, and after a moment he said, “Is this a confession, Kurusu-kun?”

“Depends on what you think I’m confessing to.” Akira winked at him.

“You know what.” Akechi’s stare could have pierced the thickest armor. “You said ‘we’ checked the nav. Are you a phantom thief?”

Morgana hopped up onto the counter to stand beside Akira, both of them facing the detective as Akira reached up and took his glasses off, Joker’s smirk curling his lips. “You figured everything out, didn’t you? Even how we were doing it, if you know about the metaverse. But you can’t prove it, right?”

Akechi had gone rigid in his seat, his gaze flickering to the door for a brief second before he continued watching Akira. “How long have you known? That I have a persona.”

Akira shrugged. “We checked the nav when your name came up on the poll. We checked a bunch of people, really, since it fluctuated so much. I didn’t think you’d have a Palace, but you didn’t have _anything_ , and Mona said that if you didn’t have a shadow, you were like us.” He raised an eyebrow. “How long _have_ you had a persona?”

“A couple of months. Frankly, it’s been a blur,” Akechi said weakly. “I stumbled into the metaverse by accident after that strange app appeared on my phone. While I was looking for a way out, I was attacked by monsters and nearly killed. My persona manifested then, and I was able to escape. I’ve been back to the subway since then, trying to see if I could learn anything about the Phantom Thieves. But the strange people there...shadows? They didn’t seem to know anything specific.”

“They only know as much as the public does, which isn’t much,” Akira pointed out.

Akechi very deliberately pushed the crossword aside, folding his hands on the counter in front of him and looking up at Akira with an expression like a blank wall. “Kurusu-kun, why have you told me this? Surely you remember that I have been opposed to the Thieves this whole time.”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Akira rubbed the back of his neck, dropping Joker’s unaffected facade for his usual demeanor. “You said that you don’t think we’re bad people, that it’s just our method that you disagree with. I want you to join us. Come with us on our next heist, and give us a chance to show you what we actually do, and then you can judge us all that you like.”

“You want _me_ to be a phantom thief?” Akechi said incredulously.

“Why not? It’s fun,” Akira said, at the same time Morgana said, “On a trial basis!”

Akechi glanced between them. “...that’s going to take a bit of getting used to, I think,” he said, though he seemed amused at how in-sync both boy and cat were. Akira watched him think, wondering if he knew how his emotions ran back and forth in his eyes, expression changing in a series of subtle quirks as he slowly came to a decision. “I…” he began tentatively. “I accept your offer. I will accompany you on your next heist, to see how the Phantom Thieves operate.”

“Great,” Akira said brightly. “That settles that, then. I told you it’d be fine, Morgana.”

“I never said it wouldn’t be; I said to be careful!” Morgana sniped back, and Akechi chuckled.

“You’re quite something, Morgana. I apologize if I ever inadvertently offended you,” he said.

Akira shrugged. “He gets offended too easily anyway. And he’s a horrible helicopter parent. Did you know I have a _bedtime?_ I’m tempted to send him home with you to fix your sleep schedule instead.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have the means to care for a cat,” Akechi said overtop of Morgana’s yowl of objection, a faint edge to his smile. He might be relatively comfortable around Akira, but clearly the jury was still out on Morgana. And probably the other Thieves too.

Morgana groaned. “I’m not a cat! I’m supposed to be human!”

“Mona’s apparently been transformed, and had his memories wiped,” Akira summarized. “He thinks the answer to why is at the bottom of Mementos, so we explore there too, and do minor requests… Look, I know this is a lot, so we’ll probably be able to formally induct you after we get back from the school trip. This probably wasn’t the best timing, since we’re all leaving in like two days.”

“You had to seize what opportunity to confront me that you could. I understand,” Akechi said, and that faint veneer of politeness was back over his voice. He was drawing back. “School trips being this week was an unhappy coincidence, is all.” He got up, gathered his things, and nodded politely to both of them. “I’ll let you close up shop. But, Kurusu…” And his mask seemed to slip a little. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

Akira wasn’t sure how sincere that was, but he smiled. “Thank you, too. When we get home from Hawaii, we’ll talk about our next heist, and take you to Mementos to see what you can do.”

“Based on the poll, that will be Okumura-san, right? I look forward to seeing how the Phantom Thieves actually work. Perhaps you will change my mind, in the end,” Akechi said, and then with a wave, he was gone.

Morgana’s tail swished agitatedly. “Are you sure this is going to work? How do we know he’s not going to run to the police right now?”

Akira shook his head. “He wants to know how we do it. I’m sure of it. He’s not going to turn us in until he’s seen our method.” He smiled at the cat. “That went well, I think.”

“He was vague, though,” Morgana said. “A couple of months could be June, July… We don’t know enough to compare it to the pancakes comment, although I guess if he’s going with us on a mission there’s more chances for him to slip up.”

Akira shrugged. “Well, we’ll figure it out after Hawaii. Futaba will be done checking the stuff from Niijima-san’s laptop, Akechi will come with us into Mementos and we can see what he’s up to, and everything will be fine.”

Morgana hissed quietly. “Everything will be fine if Ryuji stops being a jerk about Futaba.”

“Hm?” Akira held out his hand, allowing Morgana to run up his arm to his shoulder, and headed for the stairs. “What do you mean, Ryuji’s being a jerk?”

“He keeps comparing me to Futaba. She’s better at being our navigator,” Morgana complained.

“Necronomicon is pretty handy for maps and scanning,” Akira agreed, stepping into his room, and he winced as Morgana swatted his ear.

“Why should I even be part of the Thieves, then? I don’t contribute anything that someone else isn’t already doing better.” Morgana leaped from his shoulder and padded dejectedly towards the bed. 

Akira considered his empty suitcase and his plans to start packing for Hawaii, and promptly discarded both, following the cat and stretching out on the mattress. He lifted Morgana onto his chest, forcing him to look at him. “Why would you say that? What on earth would we do without you?”

“You’d be fine without me,” Morgana said, unusually subdued. “I don’t have a point in being here, do I? You all want to fight rotten adults and save people. I’m just...looking for my missing memories.”

“Morgana, I’m going to be cheesy for a second. You’re the heart of this team. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts wouldn’t exist without you.” Akira poked his nose, causing the cat’s face to scrunch up. “And don’t pull an Akechi on me. What’s really wrong?” It couldn’t be easy. Akira knew Morgana was prideful, but he couldn’t help if he didn’t know what was truly bothering him.

Morgana pawed anxiously at his chest. “I… I… If I’m not helpful, if everyone else is better at the stuff I used to do, I’ll just be a burden, and you might want me to leave. But I don’t want to leave! I want to get stronger, and stay with all of you, forever!”

Akira’s heart twisted. Morgana didn’t want to be _abandoned_. He squeezed the cat to his chest, regretting that he hadn’t seen that something was wrong sooner. “I’m sorry, Morgana, I didn’t realize it was bothering you so much,” he said. “None of us would ever ask you to leave. You’re our friend, and you’re important to us.” Meeting Morgana’s sad blue gaze, he added, “And you’re the best healer we have, if you need something that you’re better at than the others. Do you know how many times we’d have died if you hadn’t been there?”

“Heh…” He hadn’t known it was possible for a cat to sound choked up, but Morgana did. Maybe he was human after all. “I guess I have saved your butts a few times.”

“And you’re my best friend,” Akira pointed out. “That’s reason enough to not want you to leave.”

Morgana rumbled with a barely-discernible purr. “Thanks. I’m… really glad it was you that saved me from that castle, frizzy hair.”

“Me too, monster cat,” Akira replied, grinning. “Do you want me to talk to Ryuji?”

“No, I’ll do it, but can you be there, at least?” Morgana asked.

“Of course.”

They ended up spending the evening like that, stretched out in bed watching a marathon of some old anime about giant robots and political intrigue and dragons that Akira found on a random channel. Morgana fell asleep sometime in the middle of a particularly dramatic sequence implying that the king’s son was actually the child of a wandering knight from another kingdom, and Akira patted him fondly on the head before cutting the TV off and glancing at his suitcase. Packing could wait another day. As long as his friends were fine, that was all that mattered.

***

Goro spent the evening in his quiet apartment, barely able to focus with all of the new information rattling around in his head. Kurusu had completely blindsided him, and he wasn’t used to that. He’d never dreamed he would just outright admit to being a phantom thief, but apparently the other boy was full of surprises.

_Mona_. That was one mystery solved, at least. He’d never imagined that the final thief would be Kurusu’s _cat_ , of all things, but it was hardly the most bizarre thing he’d seen in the past two and a half years. That and the idea that someone who didn’t have a shadow possessed a persona. He’d assumed the lack of shadow meant a complete lack of corruption, and in a way he had been correct. It made sense that a persona, being one’s inner self, would be an uncorrupted shadow, he’d just never connected the dots before.

Being called out like this was a good thing, though, in the end. The way things were progressing, after Okumura was eliminated, he would have had to find a way to get into the group anyway, to continue leading them into Shido’s trap. He’d been considering blackmail, but now that Kurusu had invited him, he could join without the potential negative effects that blackmail would have on their trust in him. He would just have to pretend to know less than he did, especially about Mementos.

He would just have to talk about those early days instead of his present, if they asked. After all, he hadn’t lied to Kurusu; he had stumbled into Mementos and nearly been killed by Pixies. If Robin Hood hadn’t awakened, he wouldn’t have survived. That had just been two years ago, not a few months. But Kurusu, trusting, foolish Kurusu, didn’t know the difference.

_You wouldn’t stop_ , he thought to himself. _This could have ended differently if you’d only scattered when I confronted you before. But now…_

The Phantom Thieves were leaving the country, and he had his orders for one more target. He needed to call Shido; this would likely be his last mission until this business with Okumura was concluded, so he could focus fully on gaining the Thieves’ trust. And then he could be Shido’s own personal Pied Piper, leading the mice on their merry way, right into the sea to watch them drown.

Watching them destroy themselves was going to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> **RANK UP**  
>  **CONFIDANTE AKIRA KURUSU/GORO AKECHI**  
>  **FOOL/JUSTICE RANK 5**  
> 
> 
> Ironically enough, I didn’t plan it that the major divergence started at the new year, but here we are. XD I probably lied a little; we haven’t quite broken canon in half, but we put a really big crack in it, the better to smash it into tiny pieces a little later on. November’s gonna be a hell of a month. ;) There is stuff after this that I’ve literally had written since the middle of Catch Perfect. I am dying making sure not to say anything, oh my god.
> 
> Are you really telling me that Akira Kurusu, the dumb child that has people spilling their guts to him with barely any prompting and goes around solving everyone’s problems, didn’t try to talk what was wrong out of his best friend before leaving for Hawaii? Yeah, no. He loves that cat too much to just ignore when something is obviously wrong. To hell with that forced “Mona running away” plot point. No stupid Mementos chases here, folks.
> 
> (I finally got around to looking at the song list for DSN and… Atlus, as much as I appreciate THREE versions of Rivers in the Desert, it still doesn’t make up for not showing Goro.)
> 
> Next chapter: the Phantom Thieves are off to Hawaii! But what’s happening back at home?


	19. Sept. 10, 2016 - Soulmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reaching new heights of self-indulgence at the end of this chapter, guys. Apologies in advance if you were hoping for Thieves. X’D

In the end, Kobayakawa was exactly the way Goro had always pictured him: a snivelling, whimpering disappointment. He didn’t even have a Palace; Goro found him in Mementos, somewhere in Chemdah, holed up in his own little corner. He wasn’t nearly as bad as Shido’s other associates, but Shido had insisted.

 _“Please!”_ the shadow begged, weeping and whining. _“I don’t want to die!”_

“You made your choice,” Goro said coldly. “Shido-san has no patience for traitors and failures, and you are both. You were going to go to the police.”

 _“I’m sorry that I couldn’t find the Phantom Thieves! Please, give me another chance!”_ Kobayakawa’s shadow wailed.

Goro put a bullet between his eyes as the man begged at his feet. Shido didn’t suffer failures lightly, and he didn’t give multiple chances. So Goro couldn’t fail to eliminate his targets.

He returned to the rest stop in Aiyatsbus, letting his armor melt away into his prince outfit once more as he slumped into the seats. This might be his last chance for a long time for a proper nap, so he was going to take advantage. Especially since Kobayakawa had taken much less time than he’d anticipated.

But sleep, this time, didn’t come easy. He was surprised to find that he was actually _looking forward_ to the Thieves’ return from their school trip. So many questions would be answered then.

 _You’ll learn how they change a heart,_ Robin Hood said, and Goro could feel the phantom sensation of one of Robin’s large hands on his shoulder.

“I will… If Joker is the trickster and we are meant to be opponents, it would would only make sense that he was given a power like mine. This will be my opportunity to see it in action.” He wondered what it said, though, that Joker had apparently been given the power to make people confess their guilt, when he had received the power to drive others mad. If this was a dramatic anime, it was as if the thief was being set up as the hero. But Goro wasn’t going to allow him to win in the end.

 _He is weaker than you,_ Loki said gleefully. _He requires that many people to aid him while using his power. You’ve achieved success all on your own._

“True…” Goro murmured. He rolled over on the plastic rest stop seats, pulling his blanket more tightly around him. Kurusu had so many things that he didn’t, somehow, but Goro was stronger, if it came down to a fight, or sheer determination. He was sure of it.

***

Unbeknownst to any of them, Reality had dictated that there were still four Wild Cards in Tokyo.

Minato found himself in Shibuya, meandering his way through towards the Scramble to catch a train back to Hamuko and Shinjiro’s apartment. He and Ryoji had been staying there for a few days, visiting and spending some time in Tokyo, and covertly looking for any clues they could find about the Phantom Thieves. It had been a fruitless endeavor so far, but none of them were willing to give up yet.

Ryoji had left him about an hour ago, after getting a call from Mitsuru asking him to run an errand. Minato had volunteered to go with him, but Ryoji had insisted he stay and “have fun”.

Having fun mostly consisted of looking around for weird, eclectic stores in the back streets, though. He’d already found a few interesting-looking cafes tucked into narrow alleys, plus a store that was nothing but fancy stickers. But now he was just making his way down Center Street, and as he contemplated ducking into the bookstore he could see up ahead, something caught his awareness and _pulled._

 _Mina!_ Orpheus whispered in the back of his mind. _It’s--!_

Minato spun on his heel, looking around until he spotted the wide alley on the right side of the street. Without hesitation he headed right for it, oblivious now to the people around him.

There was a familiar blue glow coming from farther down the alley, and Minato quickened his step, unwilling to hope. As he rounded the corner, a half-familiar blue door was set into the wall a little ways past what looked like an airsoft shop, with a completely _unfamiliar_ girl sitting on an awning above it. She was kicking her feet idly and watching the few people who used the alley as a shortcut.

That was a little concerning. He wasn’t sure when the attendants started being allowed to hang out outside of the room, especially that young. But it was a _door_ , with someone who could let him in for the first time in two and a half years, and he hurried forward, his own inability to be noticed blending with the door’s as he approached. There was desperation in his stride, a furious desire to see the rest of his family. 

The girl looked down at him, then hopped from the awning, planting herself between him and the oddly-barred entrance.

“You can see me?” she snapped, arms folded, though she was barely half his height.

Minato raised an eyebrow. Really? What was this? “Of course I can see you,” he said. “Are you going to let me in?”

“ _No,_ ” she said emphatically. “This room is for _rehabilitation_ , not random people off the street.”

“I know this isn’t my door, but I’m still allowed in the room,” Minato said, though it was more hesitant this time. Something was very wrong here. What was she talking about, rehabilitation? “I just want to talk to Igor. Your siblings are worried; what’s going on?”

“Who do you think you are?!” the little girl demanded. “How dare you address our master so casually?!”

“Who do I…” Minato trailed off, swallowing hard. “I’m Minato. Your sister had to have mentioned me.” What was _happening?_

The girl scowled. “Justine has never mentioned you. Now _leave!_ You’re causing a scene!”

 _She is only half as strong as Elizabeth or Margaret,_ Orpheus murmured. _But to start a fight here would draw too much attention._

Minato sighed. “All right, all right, fine.” He gave the girl a mocking wave and turned away, but despite his unaffected expression, his thoughts were racing. Why would a new attendant not know who he was? Even if he hadn’t been able to get into the room in two years, why wouldn’t Igor have told a new attendant about the prior guests?

Why was it a new attendant at all, and not Lavenza? And why was she only half as strong as the others?

Minato frowned as he headed into the train station. Maybe they’d finally welcomed Minazuki Sho into the Velvet Room alongside the dark-haired boy he’d seen, and all of this strangeness was necessary. Who knew? But he was going to plan, and call Margaret to confirm a few things, and then he was going back to that door to get answers.

Or at the very least, to stake it out until he spotted the new Wild Card.

***

When he got back to the apartment, Hamuko was watching a game show, but she muted it almost immediately at the look on his face. “What happened? Did you find the Thieves?”

“No,” Minato replied, “but I found a door.”

“A _door?_ ” Hamuko practically launched off the couch. “Did you go in? Did you see Igor and the others?! Are they okay?!”

Minato waved her to sit back down. “No, there’s a new attendant watching the door, and she won’t let me in. She doesn’t know who I am.”

“It’s not Lavenza?” Hamuko didn’t sit. “Why did you come home, then? Why didn’t you explain who you were?”

“Because she was being aggressive, and I’m not starting a fight with a Velvet resident in Reality. That won’t end well,” Minato sighed. “Let me talk to Margaret, and then we can go try to talk to her again.”

Hamuko started for the door. “I’ll go talk to her. Where is it?”

“You’re not starting a fight with an attendant. What would Igor say?”

“Minato, it’s a _door!_ An _accessible_ door!”

“I know, but we can’t just rush this. Something’s weird.” He threw out an arm to stop Hamuko from trying to leave, and somehow that turned into Hamuko trying to pin him to the couch to force him to tell her where the door was, and he kicked her feet from under her, and she dragged him onto the floor with her.

The door opened behind them, unnoticed. Shinjiro stared for a long moment at the sight of his wife and brother-in-law having a full-on wrestling match in the middle of the living room floor, then sighed and carried on to the kitchen without saying anything. One of them would explain once Minato was no longer in a headlock. He hoped, anyway.

Just as Minato managed to pry her arm loose enough to slip his head out, she let go of him completely and sat up, eyes wide. “Oh, no, I forgot! We have dinner reservations!”

“What.” Minato could already feel a headache coming on from the whiplash. “Reservations?”

“Yeah, Ryoji called, he got reservations at that restaurant in the Skytree. We’re gonna be late if we don’t go start getting ready.” Hamuko hopped to her feet, offering him a hand up. “This isn’t over. I’ll fight you for the door location tomorrow.”

“What is it with him and towers?” Minato grumbled, but he accepted the hand. At least Hamuko was distracted for now. Hopefully she’d be distracted long enough for him to get in touch with Margaret.

***

Goro was starting to think it didn’t matter how tired he actually was. If the voice in the blue space wanted to talk to him, he was going to fall asleep no matter what.

The stone cube was as barren as always, but the crack in the wall seemed a little bigger. He could even make out the melody of the faint piano, just barely. It was...soothing, somehow. A song shouldn’t be able to make him feel so calm, but this one did, just by existing.

 **“Things have taken quite an interesting turn,”** the voice said. **“The Trickster approached you of his own initiative.”**

“I’m going to go along with it for now,” Goro said. “He has information I want.”

 **“Be careful that you do not learn something you wish you hadn’t,”** the voice cautioned. **“The Trickster is deceitful by nature.”**

Goro laughed drily. “So am I. We have to be, to survive.”

The voice said nothing else. There was just the ethereal music, and he could hear someone singing, distant and beautiful. But there was something sad to her tone as well. Lulled, he didn’t get a chance to think much more on it before he was dozing off again, and waking up facedown on his kitchen table next to his half-eaten convenience store bento. It was getting a little annoying; he was only ever interrupted like that in the middle of meals, or homework, or casework.

He almost wanted to say that the voice was doing it on purpose, but he knew his poor sleeping habits were probably to blame.

He wasn’t changing those for a voice in a dream, though.

***

The Skytree, despite feeding into Minato’s ability to joke about his boyfriend’s weird obsession with towers, was actually extremely spectacular. The restaurant was over three-hundred meters up, so the four of them had a perfect view as the lights of Tokyo began to flicker on as the sun went down.

“This is amazing, Ryoji,” Hamuko said happily. She’d been glued to the window for half of dinner. “Good job getting a reservation for this place.”

“I’ve been meaning to since last time we were in Tokyo, but there weren’t any spots before. I got lucky this time,” Ryoji said bashfully.

Shinjiro shrugged. “I get why it’s popular. The food’s pretty good, but the view is better.”

“Yes, well, not all of us are head chef of our own restaurant. We’re less picky.” Hamuko elbowed him, and he groaned.

“Don’t do that, I still ate too much.”

Ryoji grinned, getting up and offering Minato a hand. “Come on, let’s go do the galleria and walk off some of this food. Maybe we’ll have room for dessert by the time we get back.”

Minato accepted the hand, unfazed despite eating just as much as the others. “Are you coming?” he asked Hamuko and Shinjiro, and Hamuko shook her head.

“We’re gonna stay here and try not to die of exploding stomachs long enough to make room for dessert,” she said, winking at him. “You go have fun.”

Ryoji practically dragged him to an elevator, and when they got to the entrance to the galleria, he flashed two tickets at the girl working the desk, who waved them through with a smile. Minato had just enough time to register that there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the galleria before he was distracted by the walkway itself.

It was a tube of steel and glass, winding its way up the outside of the Skytree towards the highest deck. As they walked, they could see everything, even the faint curve of the earth because of how high they were. For most of the trip up, both were quiet, just looking at the scenery, and then Ryoji spoke.

“I don’t say it often enough, but you make me _so happy_ ,” he said, squeezing Minato’s hand as they walked. “You’d probably get mad at me if you knew how often I think that I don’t deserve this, that I’m too lucky. Because I probably don’t. I almost destroyed the world.”

“Other people _did_ destroy the world, and they’re happy,” Minato pointed out. He squeezed back, attention still caught by the lights glimmering outside of the glass walkway, a sea of false stars that mimicked the Sea of Souls.

“Yeah, but they were humans,” Ryoji murmured. “Wonderful, imperfect things that are allowed to make mistakes. I was a force of nature. I was inevitable. And it would have been so easy for all of you to see me as a monster, even if you still didn’t want to kill me on New Years.” He paused, watching the lights of the galleria glow softly as they approached the top of the walkway, then continued, “But you didn’t. You still saw me as Ryoji, even after I showed you what I really was. You _loved me_ , enough to keep me around after I should have disappeared. And you loved me enough to pull me back from a literal goddess. I don’t know how I could ever live up to that.”

Minato laughed quietly. “I’ve never expected you to live _up_ to anything. Living is enough.” As they reached Sorakara Point, Minato looked around curiously. “Ryoji, I know we’ve never been here before, but I’m pretty sure that nobody being up here is kind of weird.”

Ryoji looked around, unconcerned. “I guess? More space for us,” he said cheerfully. “Look how much of the city we can see!”

“It doesn’t even look real,” Minato mumbled, walking over to the windows. Tokyo stretched out before them, buildings invisible in the dark, leaving only the lights of windows to show that there were even people down there. If there were to be a blackout, they might as well be in space.

When he turned around, he saw Ryoji standing up in the reflective alcove, the highest point visitors could reach in the Skytree. He walked up to join him, enthralled by the way the windows reflected all around them, like they were just floating. Ryoji was looking at him like he was the entire world, and he averted his eyes, mumbling awkwardly, “What?”

Ryoji grinned. “So, you know how lucky I feel?”

Minato was instantly wary. “Yes…”

“I’m going to hope that luck holds a little longer, and be a little selfish.” Death Incarnate laughed softly. “Because there’s really only one thing that could make me any happier, and I know we joked about it, but I’m just going to go for it for real.”

Ryoji had always been oddly graceful despite his status as a certified stick-figure, and as he reached into his pocket and dropped to one knee, customary scarf fluttering to the floor behind him, it was no different. But Minato just stood frozen, watching as Ryoji opened the tiny box he was holding to reveal two silvery-blue bands.

“Ryoji…”

“What do you think?” Ryoji smiled up at him.

Minato folded his arms and pouted. “I told you before, idiot, you have to ask properly.”

The comment had the desired effect; Ryoji had to double over to muffle a decidedly inelegant snort of laughter. When he’d recovered enough to offer the ring box again, he said with as much exaggeration as he could manage, “Fine, fine. Arisato Minato, my dearest, half of my life and heart and soul, will you make me the happiest human version of Death in the world and do me the honor of marrying me?”

Not expecting the overly-dramatic version, but well-aware that he _should_ have expected the overly-dramatic version, Minato managed dumbly, “You’re the _only_ human version of Death.” Ryoji just giggled, and Minato took a deep breath and said calmly, “Were you really expecting any answer other than ‘yes’?”

“You can’t answer a question with a question,” Ryoji objected, but he was already getting back to his feet, catching Minato’s left hand to slip the ring on and press a kiss to the metal.

Minato took the other ring to put it on his _fiancé’s_ finger, smirking. “You still want to marry me anyway.”

“Of course I do.” Ryoji spared half a second to admire his ring before wrapping his arms around Minato’s waist and dragging him in for a kiss. Minato kissed back, content, until he heard a muffled squeal and broke away to look around. Hamuko was leaning around the corner with her phone out, and Shinjiro had buried his face in his hand.

Minato didn’t move away from Ryoji, but narrowed his eyes at his sister. “You both knew what he was going to do, didn’t you?”

“Duh,” Hamuko laughed. “Why do you think there’s no one else up here? He got Mitsuru to call in a favor. We _all_ knew.”

Shinjiro pointed at Ryoji. “He asked her to film.”

“Oh my god.” Minato dropped his head to Ryoji’s shoulder. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“But you love us!” Hamuko chimed, and Minato smiled, hidden.

Yeah, he did. He’d gone from no family and no regard for anything, not even himself, to two families and a fiancé. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He hoped their newest Wild Card, with a prison for a Velvet Room and a heavy burden on his shoulders, had people as good as this around him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be honest, my notes just said “Minato finds the Shibuya door” without giving a reason. Apparently I rushed the notes for Hawaii in favor of Okumura’s Palace. But then I remembered we hadn’t done this yet, so… ;D And really, I’m glad, because I really wanted to do this scene and I just wasn’t sure where to put it. But everything works out in the end.
> 
> (The sticker store is real, it’s just in Ueno instead of Shibuya. :P)
> 
> My song for those two has always been [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49tpIMDy9BE), btw.
> 
> Also, I feel like as a side note, since I’m not sure that I’ve clarified this anywhere, Minato’s (and Hamuko’s) core persona is Orpheus Telos, and Yu’s is Izanagi-no-Okami, even though I mostly just refer to them as Orpheus and Izanagi. Messiah is a special fusion and therefore isn’t around all the time, in this verse, since it’s two people and not just two personas.
> 
> Next chapter: Things kick into gear, the Thieves take Akechi to Mementos to see what he can do, and Akechi realizes that he’s got quite a few gaps in his education. There’s more to shadows than just blowing them to bits!


	20. Sept. 14, 2016 - Crow's Crash Course

Akira had fully intended to come home from Hawaii and call a meeting the very next day, but they ended up having to postpone. Just getting through school was a struggle, especially after the assembly and the news it broke. Instead of a meeting, he went back to Leblanc and took a nap to soothe his jetlagged soul, confident that the other Thieves were doing the same. Except for Futaba, who was itching to share what she’d learned from Niijima’s laptop but forced to acknowledge that none of them were in any state to comprehend anything she’d tell them.

Wednesday, though, Akira sent a group text asking everyone to meet at Leblanc, including Akechi. They hadn’t really talked in Hawaii about what to do with Akechi, but Akira was pretty sure they could just wing it, the same way they had when anyone else joined. Admittedly, no one else had been specifically invited, but there was always a period of learning how the newbie fought and how they could be integrated into the group’s overall strategy.

Akira waved them upstairs as they arrived, waiting downstairs for Akechi so he wouldn’t have a chance to arrive and then back out, and when the detective finally appeared he looked surprised to have a welcoming committee.

“Am I correct in assuming that your secret hideout has been your room all along?” he said, sounding amused.

Akira shrugged. “Why not? I have a big room.” He beckoned Akechi to follow him, continuing, “The others are already up there; I did ask them not to stare, but don’t expect too much from them.”

Akechi chuckled. “I’m quite used to staring, you know. It doesn’t bother me.” 

He trailed behind Akira up the stairs, and Akira glanced back over his shoulder. “Just remember this isn’t an interview. You can just be a person, not the Detective Prince. In fact, you probably shouldn’t be the Detective Prince. You’re a thief now.” He winked, then stepped into his room, where the others were all waiting attentively.

Akechi’s eyes jumped from one to the next, and they could almost hear him taking mental notes, confirming his suspicions that all of them were part of the group, exactly as he’d thought. Ryuji was the first to speak, lounging in Akira’s desk chair.

“So, how does it feel to be right?”

“I’m...sorry?” Akechi said, confused, and Ann grinned.

“Well, you did accuse us all way back at the beginning of the Medjed thing,” she pointed out. “And it’s us. You were right.”

“Ah, yes…” Akechi smiled, and Akira could tell that there was an artificial quality to it, compared to how he smiled around Akira alone. But that was something they could work on, and Akechi continued, “The only one I wasn’t aware of was Sakura-chan. But I can guess that she is responsible for Medjed’s fall?”

Futaba looked up from her laptop, legs stretched across Yusuke’s lap on the couch. “Yep, that was me.”

“That’s truly impressive, Sakura-chan,” Akechi complimented, but it didn’t get the positive response he seemed to want, and he moved awkwardly to stand beside the end of the bed as Akira flopped down on the mattress.

Akira raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he was going to sit, but when he didn’t move Akira shrugged and turned to the group. “Okay. The first thing. What about that assembly yesterday?”

“Principal Kobayakawa’s death was completely unexpected,” Makoto said. “No one has blamed the Thieves for it yet, other than a few mutterings at the assembly, but it’s concerning all the same.”

Yusuke glanced up from his phone. “People online have a more positive opinion of us than ever. There are more and more comments encouraging us to go after the police and politicians. They’ve even turned on Akechi. They seem to think we’re capable of making momentous changes to the very infrastructure of society.”

Ann bit her lip, leaning against Akira’s shelves. “But what if the principal is our fault? If everything with Kamoshida led to him killing himself, is his blood on our hands?” She shook her head. “All this is blowing so far out of proportion… There’s even merch of us now, like we’re celebrities. It’s kind of scary.”

“No.”

They all looked at Akechi, who shook his head sharply. “Takamaki-chan, you cannot think like that. If your group didn’t target the principal directly, his actions are not your fault. You have no control over how others react to your actions. If you take all the blame onto yourselves, it will eventually destroy you.”

Akira watched him curiously. He supposed a detective would know all about things like that. There was a lot of blame to go around in any sort of investigation, laid on by coworkers, victims, the public. As the youngest, Akechi probably saw more than his fair share of departmental mistakes being blamed on his age or inexperience. But he didn’t say anything, letting Ryuji chime in instead with, “Yeah, we didn’t know how far this would blow up. And if we hadn’t done anything, Kamoshida would have hurt more people like you and Shiho!”

“You’re right…” Ann said. “Sorry, this is all just a little overwhelming…”

“If I may ask,” Akechi said slowly. “To summarize, have you chosen targets based on a threat to yourselves?”

They were all quiet for a moment, and then Akira laughed. “It kind of looks that way, doesn’t it? But no, it’s the other way around. We were looking into our targets already when they threatened us directly. We tried to get dirt on Kamoshida for abusing the students, and then he threatened to expel us after Ryuji confronted him. We looked into Madarame because he was abusing his pupils, but then he threatened to take action against us because we were...being too suspicious, I guess? Kaneshiro was targeting teenagers, but not us personally until after we started investigating. It only got personal after we’d already picked the target.”

“On that note, can we talk about Okumura now?” Morgana said loudly. “Futaba found some really suspicious stuff.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Akira looked over at Futaba. “What happened while we were gone?”

Futaba sat up, setting her laptop on Yusuke’s lap and pulling up a whole page of notes. “So Niijima-san’s been working on those ‘mental shutdowns’ that have been happening, which aren’t the same as the psychotic breakdowns that Akechi’s been investigating. Shutdowns are the ones where people pretty much straight-up collapse and die. And there’s a lot of speculation here, but a bunch of breakdowns and shutdowns have benefitted Okumura Foods, which means it casts major doubt on the CEO.”

“That’s the guy who founded Big Bang Burger, yeah?” Ryuji asked.

Futaba nodded, and Akira groaned. “Now it’s going to be awkward to go in and do the challenge. Great.”

“That can’t be why he’s at the top of the rankings, though,” Makoto said. “The general public knows hardly anything about the mental shutdowns.”

“The public is at least familiar with the psychotic breakdowns,” Morgana said. “Futaba and I looked through the incidents from this year, and it wasn’t hard to tell that a lot of the scandals could be connected to his competitors.”

Akechi frowned. “I’d considered it strange that things seemed to be happening around, but not to, Okumura Foods, but until I learned about the metaverse I had no way to tie seemingly-random accidents into a coherent pattern. Now it truly seems as though Okumura could be responsible in some way.”

“He has a Palace,” Futaba said. “I checked the nav. Even figured out all the keywords. And another thing, there have been rumors that Okumura Foods mistreats its workers. That’s probably another reason why he’s up there.”

Quiet fell as they all contemplated that, and then Akira spoke. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said firmly. “Today, we’re going into Mementos. We need to see what Akechi can do, and see how he works with the team. Tomorrow, we need to do reconnaissance on Okumura’s Palace, to determine if he’s worth going after. Morgana, would you be capable of that? People might get suspicious if we hang around the headquarters building, but you should be able to slip by unnoticed.”

“I can do that!” Morgana said, puffing himself up. “If he’s giving orders to Black Mask, I’ll figure it out.”

“I will accompany Morgana,” Yusuke said. “I can wait outside and work on my sketches, and if he does not return in a reasonable amount of time, I will be able to go in after him. To anyone observing, however, I will simply be working on my art.”

“Good thinking, Yusuke,” Akira said. “Okay, so we have a plan. It won’t hurt to hold off on actually targeting Okumura until we know more. With all this hype, we need to be careful. A mistake will cost us dearly.” He got up, waving them on. “Let’s head to Mementos. We’ve got one target today, but it’s just a small one.”

As the team filed down the stairs to head to the station, Akechi hung back. “You’re a good leader,” he said quietly. “No wonder they all adore you. But, forgive me, who is ‘Black Mask’?”

Akira shrugged. “The culprit behind the mental shutdowns. The only clue we have is that it’s someone in a black mask, so we just call them that.”

“I see…” Akechi frowned. “That’s discouraging, to think there’s someone like that out there, Kurusu-kun.”

Akira glanced at him, trying to gauge the honesty of the statement, but ultimately decided to shrug again. “They can’t hide forever. And you’re part of the team now; you have to call me Akira like the others.”

“All right… Akira,” he acquiesced, dutifully following his new leader and the rest of the Thieves to Yongen-Jaya station, where they tucked themselves into a corner and activated the nav.

***

As the Mementos entrance warped into being around them, they all took a moment to get their bearings, then almost as one turned to examine their newest member. Akechi’s eyes widened behind his mask at the complete attention of seven other people, and Ryuji started laughing hysterically.

“Dude, what is _that?_ ”

“What?” Akechi said defensively, looking down at himself.

“It just means this is what his idea of a rebel is like,” Morgana said, but that didn’t stop the others from snickering.

Akira clapped him on the shoulder. “So your inner rebel is a prince, huh?” There were a lot of things that could be said about that, but Akira didn’t have the attention or the psychology degree to puzzle them out at exactly that moment. He was too busy admiring how Akechi looked in the outfit anyway.

“A prince?” Ann snorted. “He looks like a marching-band kid that got lost on his way to a parade.”

“I like it,” Akira said, smiling at Akechi, and the detective averted his eyes.

“If we’re quite done making fun of my outfit…”

Yusuke hummed thoughtfully. “He’ll need a code name, won’t he, Joker?”

“Oh, right. While we’re in the metaverse, we use code names, just in case,” Akira explained. They went around the circle, each introducing themselves, and then Akira tapped the point of Akechi’s mask gently with one red-gloved finger. “So, what should we call you?”

Akechi tilted his head curiously. “I suppose I cannot be ‘Prince’ because it’s too similar to Queen,” he murmured. “Perhaps I will follow Fox and Panther’s example and be ‘Crow’?”

“...but your outfit is white,” Makoto said bluntly.

“Yes, but you implied that this was to help conceal our identities?” Akechi pointed out. “Why not a name that evokes my opposite? I’m certainly not going to be ‘Dove’.”

“He’s got a point,” Akira said, grinning. “Welcome to the team, Crow.” And he was far more relieved than he was willing to admit at the sight of the bright red bird mask, no matter how ridiculous it was.

At least it wasn’t black.

***

Goro hadn’t been able to hide his absolute shock when Morgana, who was already strange enough, turned into a _bus_. That explained several things about how the Thieves managed their jobs, if they had actual transportation. Goro ended up in the backseat, sitting beside Kurusu and seething with jealousy that they’d had it so easy when he had to trudge up and down through the subway and sprint along the tracks. He was willing to bet none of them had ever been afraid of being hit by a train in their lives.

Jealousy was forgotten, though, when they reached the target somewhere in Aiyatsbus and Kurusu ordered Sakamoto, Niijima, Kitagawa, and Takamaki to handle it. Goro watched in unabashed amazement at how well they fought together, darting in and out and trading off, high-fives echoing in the tunnel as they moved like a single unit. Takamaki hooked her whip around a leg, holding it in place long enough for Kitagawa to dart in fluidly with his katana. Sakamoto summoned down lightning, paralyzing it for a few seconds before high-fiving Niijima, who raced in to slam armored knuckles into its face.

“What is…?”

“We call it a baton pass.” Kurusu, at his side, observed quietly, thumb running lazily over the guard of his knife. “It helps keep us from getting in each other's way if we move in singles or pairs and then switch off, rather than all trying to attack at once.”

Goro could admit to being impressed at how well they coordinated, but it was ultimately unnecessary. He could have taken this shadow just fine on his own, without childish high-fives or shouting; it just took a little less time with more people. 

That was all.

Suddenly, the group of four all had guns out, the shadow kneeling and at their mercy. Kitagawa took stock of the group before calling, “Everyone, with me!” and all of them leaped on the shadow at once, attacking in a flurry of blows that left the shadow dissolving back to its human shape from the intensity. Goro watched incredulously as Niijima spoke to it, then watched it disappear and took the glowing piece it left behind.

“Is that it?” he asked. “A change of heart?”

Kurusu nodded. “For the shadows in Mementos. A Palace is more complex, but I’ll explain that once we decide if we’re going after Okumura.” He smirked. “And before you ask, that was an all-out attack. If we can get the shadows surrounded, it helps a lot if we can just rush them.”

Goro swallowed hard. That was something he couldn’t do alone. But he didn’t need to.

They reconvened just outside the distortion the shadow had occupied, and Kurusu gestured to the tunnel. “Let’s walk a bit. Fox, Skull, hang back. Crow and I will step in.” He glanced at Goro. “What’s your elemental affinity?”

“Bless and curse magic,” Goro said, naming only Robin’s skills. Loki was going to stay a secret for now. No use revealing all he could do right off the bat.

Kurusu nodded. “Arsène has curse magic, so I’ll trust you to handle the bless skills.”

They ambushed a shadow down a side hallway, and Goro was almost immediately overwhelmed by the frenetic nature of the fight. The other three were so in-sync; he felt out of place as the newcomer despite the weak shadow they were facing. But he watched attentively as Kurusu called his persona, a tall winged figure of reds and blacks. Arsène couldn’t be more different from Robin Hood if he tried.

“Joker, it’s weak to ice!” Niijima huffed.

Kurusu grinned. “I’m just showing off Arsène,” he said, and then, to Goro’s utter shock, he lifted a hand to his mask and called, “Sui-ki!”

A tall oni appeared, and Kurusu commanded it to use ice magic on the shadow, knocking it to its knees and dispersing it in one hit. Goro barely registered him picking up the yen it left behind, too busy reeling. _Kurusu had two personas._ It made sense, obviously, that if they were to be evenly-matched opponents, they would share powers, but after watching all the others only fight with one, even trading out for a teammate who had a more effective spell, he hadn’t been expecting Kurusu to just summon a second persona out of nowhere. And none of the others had reacted, which meant they all knew.

He smothered an urge to summon Loki in the next fight, just to prove he was Kurusu’s equal. Loki needed to stay a secret for now. Let Kurusu think that Goro was just the same as his other teammates for a little longer.

***

He got the hang of it the deeper they went, using the nav to skip down several floors to investigate the new area that had just opened. Akzeriyyuth, it was called, and the shadows were stronger, but together they ripped through them. Kurusu hung back to observe for the most part, but it was surprisingly exhilarating to feel like part of the group, and Goro tried to keep from feeling too fond of it.

“Hold it!” he shouted, several moon-headed Sandmen trapped between their guns. He waited, having learned that sometimes Kurusu liked to negotiate with the shadows for money instead of blowing them to bits, but Kurusu nodded approvingly and Goro beckoned them all to follow him. He struck out with his saber, intensely aware of the others fighting at his side, _fighting with him_ , and as the shadows burst he spun around in a pirouette, grinning, and met Kurusu’s matching grin.

“Good job, Crow,” the other boy praised, and Goro felt himself swell with the compliment.

The next monster they fought, though, a white-furred shadow that looked like a monkey, caught the group’s attention.

“Joker, you missed that one in the pyramid!” Niijima called. “You said you needed it for a fusion? It’s weak to psychokinesis.”

“Got it,” Kurusu responded, and Goro froze as he once again reached for his mask, but this time called, “Leanan Sidhe!”

The pretty persona materialized and blasted the monkey to the ground, and Kurusu approached it, gun out, the rest of his team watching with sharp eyes. Goro couldn’t hear what he was saying to it, standing back like the others, but Kurusu seemed to be asking it questions, talking back and forth, and then the shadow dissolved into motes of light and Kurusu’s mask glowed in response.

Had he…?

Kurusu had...three personas. _Three._ But Niijima said that he had missed ‘that one’, so did that mean…? Goro thought of all the shadows they’d passed, all the different kinds Kurusu hadn’t bothered to negotiate with, and could feel nausea building up as he realized that Kurusu probably had all of them as personas already. Every last one. Multitudes of shadows at his beck and call. Suddenly, Goro’s two seemed pitiful in comparison. How was it that Kurusu could have so many at once? How could he talk a shadow into becoming a persona?

_What **is** he?_

“Good job, everyone.” Kurusu turned around, that familiar smile on his face as he met Goro’s eyes, and Goro wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch him or grab him by that ridiculous coat and drag him closer, force him to never stop looking at him like that. Like he was part of the group. Like he _mattered._

But then again, Kurusu had always looked at him as if he really _saw_ him. It was unnerving sometimes.

Before he could act on either of his urges, the air around them rippled, and a reddish haze fell over the tunnels. Everyone’s eyes widened, and Niijima turned to the cat and called urgently, “Mona, time to go!”

“...what?” Goro asked, but Kurusu had caught his hand and was pulling him towards the bus.

“The Reaper,” he explained shortly, ushering Sakamoto and Kitagawa into the bus first, then tugging Goro in to sit in the middle row of seats as Takamaki climbed in after them. Sakura and Niijima threw themselves into the front, scrambling for the wheel.

“Reaper?” Goro questioned, but he was flung back against the seat as Niijima floored it, sending the bus rocketing forward.

“It’s a really big shadow,” Takamaki said. “It only shows up if we’ve been on the same floor for a while, and it’s got _shotguns._ ”

Oh. Goro had only seen it once, a long time ago. That had been one of the few times he’d genuinely thought he was going to die down here, and he’d never made the mistake of hanging around too long ever again. He hadn’t known it had a name, though.

Sakamoto was peering through the back window. “It’s coming, Queen, let’s go!”

“Got it!” Niijima drifted the bus around a corner, heading for the platform and throwing all of the occupants to one side. Goro landed on Kurusu, Takamaki on top of him, and abruptly realized that Kurusu had never let go of his hand. He didn’t bother to take his hand back, though, even when he was upright again.

He could afford to indulge in a small thing, just for a moment. It was better than grabbing Kurusu by his coat to keep him close, anyway. That was an urge that would have to be pushed aside.

***

They stayed near the platforms from then on, trekking up or down a floor every few minutes to ward off the Reaper. Akira kept them training, letting Yusuke and Morgana sit out the fights to save their energy for the infiltration tomorrow. Akechi was growing more and more accustomed to fighting as part of the group, and his exhilaration was obvious. He smiled when he led an all-out attack or landed a particularly decisive hit, and if Akira had to guess, he’d say the detective-turned-thief was actually enjoying himself. If it had just been once or twice, it could have been brushed off as showing off, but Akechi didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it.

He had to call a halt, though, because they were getting tired. So they all piled back into the bus, and Makoto started them off towards the rest area so they could use the nav to jump back to the entrance.

He, Akechi, and Ann had ended up in the back seat this time, and he leaned his head on his hand, watching Mementos pass by outside the window and humming the Velvet Room music under his breath. It had been a good trip today. Akechi was going to be a valuable member of the team moving forward.

There was a tiny, surprised noise from beside him, and Akira glanced over, swallowing a laugh at the sight of Ann dozing on Akechi’s shoulder. Akechi looked startled, and he raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“I…” Akechi began, “I feel like… I know that song.”

“There’s a room where they help me with my personas, and it’s always playing there,” Akira said. Akechi couldn’t possibly know the Velvet Room’s music. Unless…

The detective shook his head. “It must be something else, then. It’s difficult to keep track of instrumental music sometimes.”

“You did strike me as a classical fan,” Akira joked.

There was an emotion in Akechi’s merlot eyes that Akira couldn’t place, as he looked back up to meet Akira’s gaze. “About your personas, Joker… How can you…?”

Akira chuckled. “I don’t know,” he said. Seeing Akechi ready to object, he continued quickly, “No, really. The second one I got was a complete surprise, and I’m still not an expert at convincing others to help me. Even Mona doesn’t know why I can have multiple masks. But it’s been helpful, because I can cover any weaknesses we’re missing as a group. And Arsène is the only persona that’s actually mine, that was actually born from my heart.”

Akechi looked oddly relieved to hear that. “You are already overwhelming enough, being able to recruit shadows to your cause. I can’t even imagine how terrifying you would be with the ability to call up multiple personas from yourself alone.”

Nudging his shoulder against Akechi’s, Akira grinned. “Now we’ve got you, though, and you’re good at bless skills, so we’re even more rounded than before. That’s awesome.”

Yusuke glanced back from the middle seat. “Indeed. Our leader works hard to cover the gaps in our abilities, so your talents are a boon.”

They watched in amusement as Akechi actually started turning pink under his mask. “I understand, my skills are valuable. Just remember that this is only temporary. I’m only here to determine how you change a heart.”

“Mhm,” Akira acknowledged, though he was unconvinced. “Whatever you say.”

As they piled out at the rest stop and returned to the entrance, Akira waved them to leave Mementos two at a time.

“Our group’s gotten bigger,” he said to Akechi. “It’s too conspicuous if we all reappear at once.”

Akechi nodded, and stepped up to leave alongside Ann. When Akira was the last one left, he was about to exit, but happened to glance at the Velvet Room door, where a bored-looking Caroline was perched atop the frame.

...wait.

“Caroline? What are you doing at the Palace door?” he asked.

“Justine’s watching the Shibuya door this week. Our master’s orders,” Caroline said shortly. “Someone tried to get in, and she’s better at talking to people, so she’ll make them go away.”

“Someone tried to get into the room?” Akira asked, baffled. He hadn’t even known anyone else could see the door.

Caroline scowled. “It’s none of your business, inmate. Just focus on your rehabilitation.”

He held up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” It really was their problem. And though he could tentatively say he liked Caroline and Justine, he had enough to worry about. Making sure Akechi was up to speed and investigating Okumura was plenty to deal with right now.

Turning on his heel, he headed out of Mementos to rejoin his team, paying it no more mind. An outsider in the Velvet Room was nothing to do with him. Not right now, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akira: [“It’s everything you ever want, it’s everything you ever need… It’s here right in front of you; this is where you want to be!”](https://youtu.be/NyVYXRD1Ans?t=56s)  
> Akechi: “Why are you like this.”
> 
> I went to see The Greatest Showman and I love it to pieces. And the song isn’t exactly right, but it’s close enough to Akira and the Thieves trying to coax Akechi into their world, and either way, it’s what I was listening to while writing this. Along with [the other one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wk008ADh4iY). Joker’s a dramatic dork, after all, and the Thieves don’t take themselves overly seriously. Not as seriously as Akechi takes things, by far. He needs to re-learn how to have a good time; how to exist in a space where he doesn’t have to be perfect constantly.
> 
> Figuring out how to explain turn-based battle mechanics in a coherent way is awful because turn-based battles literally don’t work outside of the context of a video game. Oops. Poor Akechi, though, getting smacked upside the face with all sorts of uncomfortable things. You’d have a lot more spending money if you could pull off a holdup, kiddo. Not to mention, more personas.
> 
> Next chapter: We continue to punt that awful fight subplot out the window as we pick up our last Thief without it taking a week. Welcome, welcome, Noir~!


	21. Sept. 15, 2016 - The Ninth Thief

**Chat: The Squad - Akira, Ryuji, Ann, and 4 others**

> _[Yusuke - 5:47pm] Everyone, the infiltration is finished. We will be meeting the rest of you at Leblanc._
> 
> _[Ryuji - 5:47pm] Find anything good? I bet Okumura’s got all sorts of twisted stuff in his head._
> 
> _[Yusuke - 5:49pm] We will explain when we arrive. I do believe the spaceport will be a challenge, though._
> 
> _[Akechi - 5:50pm] A spaceport…_
> 
> _[Akira - 5:50pm] Perfect for you, Mr. Sci-fi Nerd._
> 
> _[Akechi - 5:51pm] Please do not._
> 
> _[Yusuke - 5:53pm] We will be there soon. I’m putting my phone away for now._
> 
> _[Yusuke - 5:53pm] Morgana is mildly injured and our other companion is still quite shaken._
> 
> _[Ann - 5:54pm] What?!_
> 
> _[Makoto - 5:54pm] What?_
> 
> _[Ryuji - 5:54pm] Dude, what the hell?_
> 
> _[Akechi - 5:54pm] What?_
> 
> _[Futaba - 5:54pm] Inari?!?! D:_
> 
> _[Akira - 5:54pm] What do you mean, Morgana’s injured?!_
> 
> _[Akira - 5:55pm] Yusuke pick up your phone!_
> 
> _[Akira - 5:57pm] Yusuke!_

***

By the time footsteps sounded on the stairs of Leblanc, the remaining Thieves had worked themselves into a tangled ball of agitation. The only ones who weren’t prepared to leap across the room when Yusuke walked in were Akechi, who was sipping a cup of coffee at Akira’s desk, and Akira himself, who was only pacified by the fact that he was flopped across Makoto’s lap with her petting his hair.

Fortunately, before anyone could actually leap, a second person tentatively walked up the stairs behind Yusuke, Morgana cradled in her arms. The rest of them stared at her, dumbfounded, and Akira sat up to look at Yusuke.

“What _happened?_ ”

Yusuke beckoned the girl to come farther in. “She knows that we’re the Phantom Thieves,” he said. “She was pulled into the metaverse alongside Morgana due to her proximity.”

“I thought he was just a stray cat. I was going to see if he needed help,” the girl said. “But then everything started wobbling, and suddenly we were in a space station!” She dipped her head respectfully. “I’m sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Okumura Haru.”

“Okumura?” Ann said, the alarm in her voice mirrored on the others’ faces. 

Haru nodded. “My father is the CEO of Okumura foods,” she explained. “I was at the headquarters to drop off dinner for him, and spotted Mona-chan on my way out.”

“Is Mona okay?” Futaba demanded, and the cat stirred in Haru’s arms, lifting a paw.

“I’m fine,” he said, though they could tell he wasn’t as energetic as usual.

Akira looked from Haru to Yusuke. “What happened?” he repeated. “Were the shadows in the Palace that strong?”

“They’re strong, but that’s not what got me,” Morgana said. “Haru summoned a persona when we got cornered. It’s not fully manifested, but it was enough to get us out of the Palace in one piece.” He winced as Haru walked over to set him carefully on Akira’s lap, and continued, “It’s just bruises, really, but they’re from reality. I’ll just heal them next time we’re in the metaverse.”

“Morgana brought Haru back with him, and I thought it prudent that we all speak with her, since she had seen her father’s Palace and manifested a persona,” Yusuke said, picking up the story. “But we ran into some trouble afterwards.”

“My...fiancé,” Haru said reluctantly. “An arranged marriage, but… He wasn’t pleased to see me with another man. When he grabbed me, Mona-chan attacked his legs to make him let go, and he kicked him.”

“While he was recovering his balance, Haru grabbed Morgana, and we ran for it,” Yusuke concluded. “Not our most elegant escape, but it sufficed.”

“Good thing the rest of us weren’t there, or we’d have had to beat the shit outta that guy for hurting Morgana,” Ryuji snapped.

“And then get charged with assault,” Akechi said, glancing at Akira. “Removing yourselves from the situation was the best course of action, I believe.”

Akira scratched gently behind Morgana’s ears, being careful not to move and jostle his bruises. He was just glad they’d all made it back safely. Getting the text that Morgana was hurt had been the scariest thing that had happened in weeks, especially since Takemi had flat-out told him she wasn’t a veterinarian. But they were all okay, and he took a deep breath and reached for Arsène, letting himself fall back into his role as leader. He met Haru’s gaze where she was hovering awkwardly beside the couch, and said, trying to be reassuring, “You can sit; we’re not going to bite. I’m guessing you’ve got questions?”

Haru sank onto the couch beside Futaba, folding her hands demurely in her lap. “Are the Phantom Thieves truly targeting my father?”

“We haven’t decided,” Akira admitted. “Today was about reconnaissance, to determine if his heart was corrupted enough to steal.”

“It is,” Haru said, with surprising conviction. “Inside his Palace, his… um…”

“Cognitions?”

“Cognitions, yes. His cognitions of his workers, they were all robots,” Haru explained. “We saw one break down and it was carried away to be thrown out. If he sees his own workers as disposable like that… He didn’t used to be this way. If you can help him, I want you to, and I want to help you.”

Makoto shook her head. “It’s not the best idea to take someone along who hasn’t fully awakened their persona.”

“But we need Haru’s help,” Morgana said from Akira’s lap. “There’s some sort of biometric locks in the Palace. Haru can get through them because she’s family.”

“Oooh. That’s some fancy security for a cognition,” Futaba said. “And since it’s sci-fi science, there’s no guarantee I could hack it, either. It might be safer just to take her along.”

“Leader?” Yusuke said, and they all waited, deferring to his decision.

Akira was still for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, and finally he said, “We have enough people now for two complete teams, if we count Haru. That means we’ll have enough people to protect her even if her persona doesn’t fully awaken while we’re there. I think it’ll be fine.” He carefully shifted Morgana from his lap to the bed and got up, walking over to offer Haru a hand. “Welcome to the Phantom Thieves.”

Haru shook his hand, smiling. “Thank you. Yusuke-kun mentioned code names, and I was thinking about that on the way here. Mostly as a distraction, but I think I’d like to be ‘Noir’, if it’s all right with everyone.”

She didn’t notice, but Akira felt several of the other Thieves tense up at the name. He nodded, smiling. “That should be fine. And if you’d rather not go home tonight because you’re worried about your fiancé, you’re welcome to stay here.”

“ _‘Kira,_ ” Futaba groaned. “Her fiancé was upset about her walking around with Inari, and you want her to stay _here?_ ”

“With a boy?” Makoto said.

“In an attic?” Akechi added.

“That’s asking for trouble,” Ann giggled, and Akira wilted.

“I was just trying to be polite.”

Futaba already had her phone out and was halfway to the stairs. “We’ll just have a girls’ night at my place. Right, Ann, Makoto? Lemme just call Sojiro and let him know.”

They all watched her go, mildly amazed. Ryuji whistled. “It’s hard to believe she was a shut-in a month and a half ago.”

“Proof that a change of heart works,” Morgana said firmly.

Haru and Akechi wore matching expressions of surprise at the comment. “Sakura-chan had a change of heart?” the detective asked. “I didn’t realize…”

Akira nodded. “She was stuck in her own head, weighed down by thinking she was responsible for her mom’s death. She asked us for help, and offered help with Medjed in return.”

“I see. That’s… quite lucky for your group,” Akechi said, but he looked tense all of a sudden. Akira walked over to pat him on the head, and the tension was almost immediately replaced with annoyance. “Akira, stop.”

“Nope.” Akira ruffled his hair, and Akechi huffed.

“You’re the cat, not me.”

Haru giggled. “I’m glad that the Phantom Thieves are such normal people. It’s strange, but reassuring at the same time.”

Makoto rolled her eyes, but smiled. “I’m glad you weren’t expecting professionals, because none of us are.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything, to be honest. The idea of the Thieves was so incredible that I didn’t know what to picture,” Haru admitted. “You were like superheroes. Obviously there had to be someone behind the identity, but there was no way to tell who.”

“Ow!” Both of them looked over as Akira reeled back from the desk and landed on the bed. “What was that for?”

“I told you to stop,” Akechi said, smiling deviously. “Besides, you pull on your bangs all the time.”

“Not that hard!”

“All of you are children,” Makoto sighed. She waved to Ann and Haru. “Come on, let’s go meet Futaba downstairs.”

They vanished down the stairs with a reminder to text them if they were going to the Palace the following day, and Akechi, who looked suddenly mortified to be seen being juvenile enough to resort to hair-pulling, got to his feet.

“I’ll bid you all goodnight as well. I have a few things I need to finish before tomorrow. I will keep an eye out for any messages regarding the Palace.”

He was gone before Akira could suggest that he stay a little longer, and Akira sighed, turning to Ryuji and Yusuke. “Want to stick around and play video games for a while?”

“Don’t you and Ryuji have homework?” Morgana said from the bed.

Akira flapped a hand at him. “You need to rest. Don’t pay any attention to us.” He set up the Famicom and put in a basketball game he’d picked up in Akihabara. “Yusuke, want to try?”

Watching the artist try to play was either going to be entertaining or exasperating. There would be no in-between.

***

“Please slow down.”

“We’re going home tomorrow morning! We have to do this now!” Ryoji said. He and Hamuko each had hold of one of Minato’s hands, dragging him down the street towards the alley containing the Velvet Room door. “Don’t you want to try again?”

“Of course I do, but something is weird about this whole thing,” Minato said. “Remember, Margaret didn’t know anything about anyone named ‘Justine’, and she said Igor doesn’t just create new attendants for no reason.”

“Well, we outnumber the kid at the door now, so we can get some answers!” Hamuko chimed in.

Minato knew better than to try to get away from the two most enthusiastic people in his life, so he let them lead the way down the alley, past the airsoft shop and right up to the blue door. But the girl who stood there was different than the one he’d spoken to before, with a braid and a clipboard, and before Ryoji or Hamuko could say anything he stepped forward.

“Are you Justine?”

She smiled at him, inclining her head. “I am. Caroline is my twin sister. I apologize for her rudeness, Minato-sama.”

Minato blinked. ‘Sama’ was certainly new. “I’m not upset,” he said. “Just...confused.”

“Yeah, why can’t we go in?” Hamuko burst out. “What’s Igor thinking, keeping us out?”

“Our master apologizes for causing you to worry,” Justine said softly. She glanced down at her clipboard. “The Trickster is unstable, as I’m sure you can imagine from the prison door. For the safety of everyone involved, plus with the continuing instability in the metaverse, we have quarantined the Velvet Room until the Trickster’s journey is complete.”

Ryoji glanced at Minato, then asked, “That even extends to Liz and the others?”

“It pains our master to forbid our former visitors entrance, but it’s what he has deemed best for now,” Justine replied.

“Liz isn’t a--” Ryoji began, in disbelief that even the rest of the attendants were banned, but Minato elbowed him before he could finish.

The Universe reached for Hamuko’s hand, squeezing sharply as a warning, and then said with a measured tone and a gesture at his companions, “So Ryoji, Margaret, and I, you can’t let even one of us in?”

“I’m sorry, Minato-sama,” Justine said. “I will tell him that you, Ryoji-san, and Margaret-san all were here, but for now…”

Minato smiled. “I understand. Igor must be proud of you and your sister for doing such a good job. Take care of our new Wild Card, okay?”

Justine nodded, and Minato caught Ryoji’s sleeve and dragged both him and Hamuko from the alley. They found a free bench near Hachiko, far enough from the door, and Hamuko sat down heavily. “You were right, Minato. Something’s really wrong.”

“She had no idea who we were,” Ryoji said incredulously. “She might as well have been reciting lines, and she doesn’t recognize her own family’s names? I could see Igor not explaining all the guests, but not telling her about her sisters?”

“She didn’t even realize that I called Hamuko by the wrong name. And ‘metaverse’... I’ve never heard anyone use that term before,” Minato said slowly. “Lady Belladonna said that everyone was safe, but…”

Hamuko wrung her hands together. “I’m going to watch the door. As much as I can, anyway. And I’ll get Yu and the others to help. If we can grab whoever this kid is, when he goes in or comes out, we might get some more answers about what’s going on. We can at least compare what his room is like to what we remember.”

“I can’t think of anything that would justify this,” Ryoji said. “That Sho kid isn’t even worth this much paranoia. Is a Trickster really that unstable? Because nothing the Phantom Thieves have done so far gives that impression.”

Minato sighed. “We should detour on the way home and speak to Nanjo-san. Other than checking in on the project, we can ask him what Tatsuya-san was like. Margaret said he was the last Trickster they had, and Nanjo-san knew him personally.”

"He didn't sound unstable, the way Maya-san talked about him," Hamuko said. "Other than what you would expect from what he was going through. Definitely not enough to warrant a lockdown."

"Maya-san is kind of biased, though, isn't she? She loves him a lot. I'd rather have a slightly less rose-colored opinion, too," Minato explained.

“I can’t believe we’re honestly trying to figure out how to break into the Velvet Room. How did it come to this?” Hamuko murmured.

“We’ve been trying to break in for two years,” Minato reminded her. “We’re just going to be trying a little harder now.”

They all collectively wilted a little, already thinking of everything they still needed to do. Finding the door had seemed like it put them so close to the end of the road, and now they’d discovered there were still miles to go. But they couldn’t stop, because now they were positive that something was really wrong, and they might be the only ones that could do something about it.

***

Akira had gone to sleep only a little past his usual bedtime, after seeing Yusuke and Ryuji out and making sure Morgana was doing all right. He fell asleep curled around his best friend, only to wake up on the uncomfortable cot in the Velvet Room.

“Huh?” He dragged himself to his feet, clutching at the bars as he shook off lingering fog from sleep.

“You’ve gained two new companions in a very short time. That’s quite impressive,” Igor said serenely.

Akira jumped as Caroline slammed her baton into the bars. “Apparently people actually like you,” she said, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, I hope they like me. Otherwise they’re just lurking in my attic like weirdos.”

“Don’t be flippant, inmate!” she snapped back, and he held up his hands in surrender.

Igor chuckled. “Strengthening your bonds will only lead to greater power, but mind that you do not allow a viper into your midst.”

Akira narrowed his eyes at the Velvet Room’s master. Did Igor know something he didn’t? He had his suspicions, but they weren’t properly formed, just hints of feeling and instinct. Instead of prying, knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere, he glanced down at the twins. “So, did you fight off the intruders, or whatever was happening?”

“It has been dealt with,” Justine said calmly, as Caroline spluttered at him that it still wasn’t any of his business. The softer-spoken of the twins shook her head. “You needn’t be concerned. There are always a few ordinary people sensitive enough to see the door, though only our current inmate is allowed inside. Some simply do not understand that.”

Akira looked around the room at the many, many cells along the wall, the tall ceilings, the cracked wall high behind Igor’s head. “If it’s only me, why so many cells?”

Igor smiled unsettlingly. “You would have to ask yourself. The room is a reflection of your heart, after all…”

Before he could ask any more questions, Akira woke up, a weight squirming on his chest. He blinked blearily at Morgana, who was kneading at his shirt, halfway under the blanket. “Hey, are you all right?”

Morgana sighed. “My bruises hurt,” he admitted reluctantly. “Sorry for waking you up. You’re warm, and it helps.”

Akira reached up, waited for Morgana to nod, and then ran his hand gently down his back. “I’m sorry I don’t have any pain meds that are safe to give cats outside the metaverse.”

“‘M not a cat…” the cat grumbled, but leaned into his hand.

“I know, I know…” Akira petted him absently, then after a moment asked, “Hey, do you trust Haru?”

Morgana blinked at him. “Why do you ask?”

“Something’s bothering me,” Akira muttered. “Her running into you like that seems a little convenient. We think Black Mask is working for Okumura, right? And his daughter just happens to follow you into the metaverse and gain a persona? Plus she wants us to call her Noir?”

“I don’t think you can fake a half-manifested persona… But… Her… Her outfit does have a black mask…” Morgana said, his eyes growing wide. “You don’t think Haru…?”

“I think we need to keep an eye on her,” Akira said. “We don’t know how deep this goes or what could be staged. For all we know, her fiancé could be involved too. We just...need to be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you guys.”

Morgana rumbled with a purr. “Between you and me, everything will be fine. I’m sure of it!”

“I hope so…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They basically all take turns petting Akira since Morgana won’t let them. Although, Morgana’s gotten a bit more accepting of pets from Akira. Also, I...think Hours just passed 200,000 words total. o_o How did this happen. 
> 
> If canon intended Haru to be a red herring, they could have handled it a lot better. She and Makoto both had potential, and they just...never fleshed out those details, leaving Akechi as the screamingly obvious traitor. Admittedly, I still think he was that obvious to mask the _real_ betrayal, but still. More red herrings never hurt anyone.
> 
> (Yaldabaoth doesn’t actually know, specifically, who the former guests and attendants are. He’s not omnipotent, and Belladonna and Nameless certainly aren’t going to tell him and give him easier targets.)
> 
> Next chapter: No one has as much fun in the spaceport as they thought they would, Futaba traumatizes Mothman, and Akira continues trying to figure out if all of this was a good idea.
> 
> Edit: Fixed the chat header. Also, hello to that throwaway detail that comes back 30 chapters from now. XD I'm still so glad I skipped all that Morgana drama.


	22. Sept. 18-30, 2016 - Defying Gravity

The Phantom Thieves were _idiots_.

Kurusu had sent out a group text before they went into the Palace, excluding Okumura, to inform everyone that he and Morgana had spoken, and that they needed to keep an eye on her.

She was _suspicious_.

She could possibly be ‘Black Mask’.

Goro wanted to laugh. Or scream. They’d even gone so far as to theorize motivations. She was just so _nice_ ; what if her father knew about her powers and was forcing her to work for him? What if that was why she wanted a change of heart? It was almost too much; he couldn’t participate in those conversations.

It was their mistake. He certainly wasn’t going to complain if they were focusing their scrutiny on the other new member and not him. It just made his life easier. Although, Okumura wasn’t doing herself any favors. The circumstances of her joining them didn’t exactly earn her any points, plus her mask was literally black. It was only natural that the Thieves would be suspicious of her motives. Even her theatrical awakening, turning her back on her father like that, had been almost _too_ over the top.

In a way, he was almost jealous. She had turned on her father, not without difficulty, but it was a clear decision. To fully commit to a change of heart, no matter the cost, was something he could never do. He’d come too far.

This Palace, though. Goro had been here, but only to the lower areas, unable to pass the biometric locks and see what else it had to offer. And it turned out the answer was nothing. Robots and hallways, and while the robots were interesting from a technical standpoint, from a practical standpoint they were just exhausting, along with the shadows.

He would be glad when this was over.

***

Akira had to admit, of all the Palaces so far, this should have been the most fun, and it was turning out to be pretty disappointing. He finally called a halt in an out-of-the way hallway, passing around bottles of water from the bag they were taking turns carrying and taking stock of the group. They’d come pretty far from the safe room; it might be best to turn back now and do the next shift change a different day. The robots weren’t going down easily, and they had a ways to go to reach the director’s keycard.

Futaba sidled up to him, goggles pushed up to the top of her head and eyes pleading. “Hey, Joker, can you summon that new persona you just got, if you’re not too tired? Pretty please? I wanna see it up close!”

Akira raised an eyebrow. He reached for his mask, letting it burn up and calling his newest persona. “Mothman, come.”

The oversized insect persona appeared, and Futaba beamed, practically skipping over to it. “Look at him! He’s weird; he looks like a mascot or something!” It was only a little shorter than her, and she poked its stomach curiously. “The actual cryptid is some scary thing from America; I wonder why he looks like the plush version?”

“...anime?” Makoto suggested, uncertain, and Akira snorted.

“How are the rest of you?” he asked. “I know this hasn’t been the easiest Palace.”

“This is the worst! Everything in this goddamn place resists or reflects regular stuff except _that thing!_ ” Ryuji complained, gesturing at Mothman, who was looking uncomfortable as Futaba examined its wings.

“That’s not true. The star falls down if we hit it with weapons.” Haru smiled down at the axe resting across her lap.

“We really are having to use our personas a lot to hit their weaknesses, though. It’s soooo tiring,” Ann said. “This Palace is going to take forever at this rate.”

Yusuke shrugged. “We have time. There are still roughly three weeks before Haru is in true jeopardy.”

“I guess if everyone else is tired,” Morgana said reluctantly, and Akechi nodded.

“There will be other days, and if we grow too tired, it will increase the likelihood that someone will be seriously injured,” he said, glancing at Akira. “Perhaps it would be best to return to reality for now.”

Akira looked around again, taking stock of the group. Everyone did look tired, except their excitable navigator. Futaba was hugging Mothman. Mothman looked far more confused than a manifestation of consciousness had any right to.

“Let’s head back to the safe room and go home for today,” he decided. “We’ll work through the rest of the shifts gradually. Crow is right; these things pack a punch, and I don’t want anyone getting really hurt if we’re too tired for healing. I only have so many beads.”

Everyone agreed, and as they got back to their feet and prepared to return to the safe room, Akira smiled at Akechi. Akechi looked away, apparently embarrassed, and Akira’s grin only widened. They were going to make him comfortable with being part of the group eventually. Haru, despite their slight suspicion, was fitting right in. But Akira was confident he could win over the detective, even if it took a little longer.

* * *

* * *

It took over a week to get through the maze of hallways and robots. Conflicts in reality that kept all of them from being able to venture into the Palace ate up days, and the robots’ shift changes didn’t always line up with when they were there. But at last, triumphantly waving the director’s keycard, they were able to take the elevator and venture into the main area of the spaceport, and everyone’s mouths fell open.

“Look at this place!” Ryuji said loudly. “It’s huge!”

“We really are in outer space!” Ann gasped, pointing up at where the Earth was visible through the massive dome overhead.

Akechi said nothing, but his eyes were wide, and Futaba elbowed him. “Isn’t this awesome?!”

“Y-Yes… It is.”

They found a balcony outside of a safe room, with a strange pathway made of round platforms leading away from it towards their destination, and after clearing out the single patrolling shadow Akira called for a break. They all scattered around the balcony, and Makoto came over to lean on the railing beside Akira. He’d been looking off into the distance, admiring the impossible view, but he looked over when she appeared at his side. “Hm?”

“Shouldn’t we be _in_ the safe room?” Makoto asked, but Akira shook his head.

“It’s fine. The door is right there if anything happens. Besides, do you really want to interrupt?” He gestured around at the team. Ann, Ryuji, and Haru were snacking on some of the food they’d brought along, Morgana was watching Yusuke, who’d pulled a sketchpad from somewhere and was drawing the central building with the backdrop of space behind it, and Akechi and Futaba were lying side-by-side at the far end of the balcony, talking about stars and occasionally pointing at something visible through the dome.

Makoto smiled fondly despite herself. “Our new members are working well with the group. Haru’s psychokinesis abilities have been really helpful.”

“Yeah. I’m glad we ran into her, because this Palace really would have been impossible without her help,” Akira said. “And who knows what the public would have done if we’d chosen someone else?” He sighed. “I’m going to ask Mishima to take down that poll. It’s going to cause problems if things get any more hyped than they already are.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Makoto agreed. “I know he’s got good intentions, but it’s a little much.”

Things were quiet for a bit, as everyone rested up before they tackled the next part of the Palace, but eventually the silence was broken. Akira and Makoto looked over as Futaba yelped, but it was clearly a yelp of joy based on the grin on her face, and Akira raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Oracle?”

“Okay, so you know how it was easier to move when we were fighting that shadow?” Futaba asked gleefully.

“Yes…?”

Futaba shoved Akechi towards the first of the round platforms, farther away from the safe room. “Show them, Crow!”

Akechi went, looking a bit put-out at being pushed around, but stepped onto the platform and jumped in place. Despite not appearing to do anything special, he jumped a good foot higher than any of them could manage normally, and Futaba practically squealed with happiness. “The artificial gravity is weaker the farther you get from a main building~”

Haru got up from where she was sitting beside the safe room door and jumped, and only went as high as normal. “Oh! You’re right…”

“Does that mean if we go out in the middle there we could jump even higher?” Ryuji exclaimed.

“Won’t we draw attention to ourselves if we go bouncing across the room?” Makoto said skeptically.

Futaba shook her head. “I don’t think we can bounce _that_ high,” she said, as Akechi returned to the group. “But it’ll be fun anyway!”

Ann clapped her hands together. “We can try to mimic Joker’s thing where he jumps up on the shadows and rips off their masks!”

There was a ripple of agreement, and Akira ended up leading his excited team across the platforms toward the center building, letting them take turns ambushing shadows by leaping on them from above with the lessened gravity. It also made for some significantly more acrobatic fighting, as suddenly everyone else realized they could pull off Akira’s usual backflips.

“Does this prove that everyone would be as big a show-off as you, if only they had the ability?” Akechi commented, watching Yusuke and Ryuji actually pull off a real-life fastball special right into a crowd of Decarabia.

“Says the only other thief that can do backflips in normal gravity,” Akira pointed out. “Does that make you a crow calling the kettle black?”

Akechi smothered a laugh. “I suppose. Is it so strange that I can do them?”

“Well, they do say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” Akira teased. “I was a gymnast for three years, though. Where did you learn?”

“I taught myself. I have enough arm strength for it from rock-climbing.” Akechi tilted his head curiously. “You being a gymnast explains quite a bit about your fighting style and your ability to maneuver in the Palaces, though.” His eyes were bright behind his mask, and Akira recognized the expression as him piecing a new bit of information into his understanding. It was endearing.

Akira shrugged. “We’re all self-taught when it comes to battle, so of course what we know is going to bleed into how we fight. It all works out in the end, though.” He offered Akechi a hand, smiling. “C’mon, we’re getting left behind.”

Akechi’s eyes darted from his hand to his face and then back, and he turned away with a quiet laugh. “You’re getting left behind, maybe.” And he pushed off, leaping across to the next platform gracefully.

Shaking his head and chuckling, Akira followed.

* * *

* * *

While the hallways had been long and monotonous and the open area had been a veritable trampoline arena of exciting shadow ambushes, the factory area, once they finally chose a day to tackle it, was the most dangerous of the lot. Breaking machinery to cross gaps above conveyors and shutting down metal presses to use them as platforms… It was a wonder no one had gotten hurt yet.

It was fascinating, though, watching their leader. Goro picked out immediately how Akira always went last on the mechanisms, always made sure that his whole team was through or across before going himself, constantly watching their backs to make sure a shadow wasn’t going to startle them from behind and send someone flying into a pit.

...and when in these two weeks had he started thinking of him as ‘Akira’ instead of Kurusu? Sometime after their chat while crossing the dome, maybe? It had happened so suddenly, he’d barely noticed he was doing it. But it didn’t feel...wrong, to think of him with his first name. Akira had asked him to, after all. And they were something like friends, at least until this Palace was over and Goro had ended Okumura’s shadow, anyway.

He was having increasing doubts about his ability to do that, though. The group stuck fairly close together, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to slip away while they were doing...whatever they did to a Treasure. Shido’s plan hinged on Okumura dying, and if Goro didn’t manage it, well…

He didn’t want to know what the consequences would be.

Crossing another broken robotic arm, Akira was again waiting for the rest of them to go. Goro, lost in thought, ended up being the last other than him, and he shook his head at the questioning nudge against his shoulder, heading for the arm. But once he’d hoisted himself up, he barely made it two steps before the entire thing started to shake and bend, tipping him forward.

“Crow!”

Akira’s hand closed around his wrist, yanking him back, down, and against the thief’s chest as the broken arm bowed downward and slipped from the walkway, tumbling onto the conveyor below and sending up a cloud of smoke. Goro’s heart thundered in his ears as he realized how close he’d come to falling. And how close he was to Akira.

He tried to turn and look at Akira, but the pointed beak of his mask poked the other thief’s cheek, and he hurriedly stepped away, flustered. “I’m sorry. Thank you for catching me.” _Why_ was he reacting like this, just because they’d been pressed together for a moment?

“It’s fine.” Was Akira _blushing?_ It was hard to tell under the mask. “You really could stab someone with that thing, couldn’t you?”

His grey eyes caught and held Goro’s gaze, and he reached up to rest one finger against the point of the mask. Goro felt the slight pressure against it, the mask shifting like Akira was going to push it up out of the way. Out of the way of _what?_ He didn’t move, barely able to breathe, and then Sakamoto was calling their names and Akira’s hands were back in his pockets, like he’d never been touching the mask at all.

“We’re fine!” he called back reassuringly. “No harm done.”

Niijima pointed farther down. “There’s another arm that way; we’ll try to break it to get you guys across.”

“Perfect. We’ll wait for you there.” He turned on his heel and motioned Goro to follow. “Come on; they’ll find another console.”

“Joker,” Goro began, but stopped, uncertain what he was going to say. The thief had, for all intents and purposes, saved his life. He didn’t know how to react. It felt like it should have been a monumental thing, but somehow Akira made it seem ordinary. Another day with the Phantom Thieves. 

Even though Goro couldn’t honestly say whether he would have done the same.

“Hm?” Akira was still waiting for him to speak, and he shook his head.

“It’s nothing,” he said, and Akira frowned slightly, but nodded.

And if, as they walked towards the other arm, Akira stuck a little closer to his side, Goro pretended not to notice. This was fine. If he for some reason liked having the thief near him, it was fine. He could have this. Just for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that a cliché? Prolly. Do I care? Not particularly. I think the “slow” part of the slow burn is getting to me a bit. We’re getting there, though, I swear. Make a move already, Akira! XD
> 
> In case anyone didn’t notice, Okumura’s Palace was my least favorite, minus the airlock puzzle. That robot thing took way too long, and there’s not enough space in the freaking _space Palace_. Really, no gravity puzzles? For shame, Atlus.
> 
> This Palace is taking the full amount of time it does in-game, mostly because I need events to line up properly for November, and partly because jeeze those robots are a slog and I’m making the Thieves suffer like I did. But this chapter nailed most of it, because I had a lot of small things I wanted to do, but didn’t feel like they’d fit all in one day.
> 
> Next chapter: We take a break before the fun part of this Palace (and the other thing I've been dying to get to) to poke at a scar or two. What could possibly go wrong, messing with Akira’s already-less-than-perfect emotional state? :P


	23. Oct. 2, 2016 - Unseen Scars

Futaba was certain there was only one area left of the Palace before they reached the Treasure room, but circumstances were unkind to the Thieves as the deadline approached. Ann and Ryuji came down with seasonal colds, and were up to their ears in snot. Makoto had duties as student council president she had been neglecting. Akechi was dragged away for work. And so on. As a consequence, Akira spent as much time as he could with his friends outside the Thieves as he waited for the next time they could enter the Palace.

He played shogi with Hifumi, learned more about guns with Iwai, and spent time helping Yoshida with his speeches. But today, he was on the way back to Leblanc with fire in his eyes, because he’d been in Akihabara with Shinya, and he was _furious_ at Shinya’s mother.

No parent should think of their child that way. To talk about him like he was some sort of investment, to talk about him like he was supposed to just be silent and never question her. To disregard his feelings like that!

It was enough to make him angry, because he cared about Shinya and he hated seeing that crushed, beaten look on the kid’s face. He knew that look too well, from his own mirrors. Shinya’s mother hadn’t squashed him to the point of being unwilling to fight, and Akira didn’t want it to get to that point, ever. But then she had threatened _him_ on top of that, threatening to call his school and _lie_ about him stalking Shinya… It made his blood boil. What was it about him that said ‘ _please falsely accuse me of terrible things_ ’?

He’d asked Shinya about his mother’s name the second they got one more moment alone, because Shinya had looked ready to cry, and he wasn’t having that. All he needed now was help putting a calling card together; they could do this request with a smaller team. It was an emergency, and Shinya had practically begged him.

_Please tell the Phantom Thieves… to change my mom back to how she used to be._

Akira strode into Leblanc, already pulling out his phone, but paused when he saw Futaba sitting at the counter across from Sojiro, both of them frowning. It clearly wasn’t a normal lunch visit.

“Futaba, I already know how far in debt he is. All of this information was obtained illegally; we couldn’t use any of it. I’m not letting him have custody back, so don’t do stupid things like this, okay?” Sojiro was saying. He glanced over at Akira, who’d stopped at the end of the counter. “Oh, you’re back.”

“What’s wrong?” Akira asked, taking a seat beside Futaba.

Sojiro sighed. “She went and hacked her uncle’s bank details. You remember, he came in here a couple weeks ago?”

Akira remembered. Futaba’s uncle was a disgusting man who had abused her to the point that she panicked at the sight of him. “Has he tried anything?”

“Not yet,” Sojiro muttered. “But I don’t expect him to just go away.”

“That’s why we have to fight him!” Futaba said loudly, and Akira nodded, just as determined. His last nerve was already fraying after this morning; he wasn’t going to put up with someone threatening Sojiro and Futaba, too.

Sojiro nodded. “I didn’t stand up for your mother when I should have; I won’t make that mistake again.”

There was an English expression Ann had taught them: ‘speak of the Devil’. It was some sort of superstition about how talking about bad things would cause them to manifest. They’d brushed it off as silly, but as the bell for Leblanc chimed and they all looked over to see Futaba’s uncle walking in, Akira wondered if maybe there wasn’t some truth to it after all. Futaba’s eyes went wide and she got up from her chair quickly to back away towards the stairs, and Akira could already feel himself tensing up. His fight or flight response was firmly geared towards fight in this instance, especially since he was already angry.

“Get out,” Sojiro said coldly. “Or I’m calling the police.”

“You wouldn’t answer my calls.” Isshiki Youji had a grating voice. Akira hated him on instinct.

“That’s because I’m not giving you a single yen more,” Sojiro replied. “You already took half of Futaba’s inheritance just so I could get her away from you. It’s not our problem that you’re incapable of managing your money. And we can go to court if you want, but no judge is going to award custody of a child to someone with a track record of financial failure.”

“I wouldn’t go with you anyway!” Futaba cried. “I hate you! I’m staying here with Sojiro!”

“Shut up! All of this is your fault anyway, you cursed little bitch,” Youji snarled.

With what happened next, it felt like time had slowed down. They’d been in too many fights, honing their instincts to razor points. Against a shadow, it meant the difference between being able to keep going or a possibly fatal injury. Against Futaba’s uncle, it meant that Akira was out of his chair the second Youji stepped forward, keeping Futaba behind him as he pushed them both to dodge the clumsy punch the man tried to throw.

Youji overbalanced, landing on his face with a thud, and Sojiro rounded the counter in alarm. “Futaba, Akira!”

“You bastards… I’ll sue! This is assault!” Youji growled from the floor, and Akira went still.

“Wha…”

“You fell on your own,” Sojiro said, baffled. “You can’t sue over that.”

“This dangerous delinquent attacked me,” Youji accused, getting back to his feet, and Futaba’s hands twisted into the back of Akira’s shirt. “You’re not getting away with this!”

The man stormed out of the cafe, and Sojiro sighed. “Jeeze… Like you don’t have enough problems.”

Akira swallowed hard, suddenly more frightened than angry. He managed to choke out, “I was trying to protect Futaba. I’m...sorry…” He could barely get the words past his lips. It was too much, on top of everything else. It was just like…

_I’ll sue!_

_You fell by yourself!_

_This young man… attacked him._

_No, they’re lying, help me, help me!_

“Akira?” Futaba slipped out from behind him to peer up at his face. “‘Kira, what’s wrong?” 

He shook his head. “I’m okay. I’m… I’m okay…”

Futaba frowned at the tone of his voice, higher than usual and unable to mask the panic thrumming beneath his skin. “You’re _not_ okay. You look like you’re gonna scream.”

He was starting to shake, trembling as he tried to keep it together. “It’s…” He could feel his eyes stinging, which just made everything worse. He was supposed to be the strong one, but he hadn’t realized this wound was still so raw. “It’s the same... I can’t do this; I can’t do this _again_ …”

“Kid?” Sojiro put a hand on his shoulder, and Akira cracked.

He knew Sojiro was worried, he knew he was probably scaring Futaba since he was usually the most collected of all of them, but despite his best efforts he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “I can’t do this again! Why does this keep happening, why do people keep lying about me, keep accusing me of things I didn’t do? It has to be something about me, doesn’t it?” He yanked his glasses off, trying to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve, but the plain fabric did nothing against months and years of stress and helplessness that had finally broken through. Embarrassed by his reaction but unable to stop, he ducked his head so his hair would hide his eyes and pleaded, “Please don’t send me away. I’m sorry, I won’t cause any more trouble...!”

At the beginning of the year, it had seemed impossible, but somewhere along the way Leblanc had become something he didn’t want to lose.

He shuddered with surprise and confusion when Sojiro caught him in a slightly awkward hug, while Futaba latched onto his waist from behind and buried her face in his shirt. Sojiro patted his back, and he swallowed a pathetic whimper, resting his forehead on Sojiro’s shoulder.

“Jesus, Akira… I’m not going to send you away. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sojiro said. “I’m your guardian; I’m not letting anyone lay a finger on either of you kids.” He raised an eyebrow at the muffled, broken sound against his shoulder, and his expression hardened. “I don’t know what anyone in the past has done to you, but they messed you up, didn’t they? This won’t be like that. You’re safe here.”

“They sent me away,” Akira said brokenly. “I didn’t do it, I didn’t attack anyone, but they sent me away anyway… They don’t even know you; they sent me to live with a stranger!”

Sojiro’s grip on him tightened, and Akira tentatively reached up to return the hug. “You’re not going anywhere, idiot. You’re staying right here, and that’s that.”

Akira took a shivering breath, trying to calm down and get his nerves back under control. Sojiro and Futaba stayed, just holding onto him until he was steady again, and in a flare of clarity he realized it was more than his parents had ever done, when he was scared to death of what his fate was going to be back in February.

When he finally straightened up, wiping lingering tear tracks from his face, Sojiro let go of him and stepped back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I… I’m sorry for breaking down like that, I just…”

“Stop apologizing,” Sojiro ordered. “I’m going to get you both some curry, and you’re going to go upstairs and eat your lunch and relax, okay? I’ll handle that blowhard Youji, even if I have to take him to court.”

Akira accepted his food without complaint, just a murmured thanks that he hoped Sojiro realized was for much more than just a plate of curry. He and Futaba retreated upstairs, and they ate in silence for a few minutes before Akira said tentatively, “Futaba?”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Please...don’t tell the others what happened today,” Akira requested. “I’m their leader; they don’t need to know that I had a crying fit over a fight with your uncle.”

Futaba frowned at him. “They wouldn’t judge you, y’know.”

“I know.” He shook his head. “It’s...embarrassing, though, and I would rather not have them fussing over me when we should be worrying about Okumura. Please?”

“Fine.” Futaba stabbed at her curry with the spoon. “As long as you let us help you if anything else comes up. Got it?”

He stuck out his pinky, and she couldn’t help but grin, reaching out to hook her own around it and shake his hand. “Well, that settles that! Although…” She chewed her lip anxiously. “My uncle also… He’s got a hit in Mementos. I want to see if changing his heart can stop all of this, but I don’t want to tell the others either. Can...you help me? I trust you.”

Akira hummed. “Funny. There was another terrible parent I was hoping to take out today too. If you can help me with the calling cards, we can go this afternoon.” Morgana was at Ann’s, fussing over her, so he couldn’t tell them that going alone was a bad idea.

“Someone else today? Jeeze, no wonder you freaked out,” Futaba said bluntly. “Who?”

He explained briefly about his encounter with Shinya and his mother, and Futaba was just as incensed by the time he finished. Not wanting to ask Yusuke and Makoto for help with the cards, they went back to Sojiro’s house and scanned the calling card Futaba had kept so they could open it up in an image editor. It took Futaba all of twenty minutes to shuffle the text around for new messages, and she printed one out on cardstock and uploaded the other to her phone.

“I’ll text my uncle this one with the untraceable number I use for Alibaba,” she said. “Can you get the other one to Oda-kun?”

Akira nodded. “Already texted him and asked if he could meet by the arcade. I’ve got life stones and a few cans of Dr. Salt, plus that patch thing I got from Takemi-sensei. I think we’re good.”

Futaba punched the air. “ _Sidequest: Stop the Terrible Family Members_ is a go!” She knew he was throwing himself into this to distract himself from earlier, but Shinya needed their help, and there would be time afterwards to make sure he was actually okay, and not just squashing everything back down again. She knew what that would do to you firsthand, and she wasn’t going to let him do that to himself, too.

They told Sojiro they were going to Akihabara and headed out. Futaba hung back while Akira dropped the calling card off with Shinya, telling him to give it to his mother right away, and then they headed into Mementos to look for Futaba’s uncle first.

Even with just the two of them, pent-up anger and adrenaline from the rest of the day fizzled through him, and with Futaba’s all-kaja he ripped through not only any of the monsters in their path, but also both shadows, as if they were no more than the Pyro Jacks that wandered around Qimranut. He could have gone farther, even; it was tempting to keep kicking Futaba’s uncle when he was down, to make him taste just a fraction of the hurt he’d inflicted on her. But Akira shoved that urge back and took the scraps of Treasure the shadows offered up as normal.

Doing Mementos on foot was exhausting, and when they finally reemerged into Akihabara, it was all they could do to find the nearest cafe and order slushies. They found a bench outside, clutching their drinks, and Futaba leaned into his side with a sigh.

“...thanks for going with me today,” she said quietly. “I just hope we got to him before he did any paperwork or anything to go after Sojiro.”

“There’s a pretty good chance we did,” Akira replied, sipping his cherry slushie slowly. “Thank _you_ for doing the cards, and agreeing to go after Shinya-kun’s mother, too.”

“Uh, duh. That’s kid’s like, our biggest fan other than Mishima. Of course I’d want to help him.” She peered up at him. “And you. I always want to help you, if you let me. You’re like...the big brother I didn’t know I wanted until I already had you. You’re basically family, and I’m sure Sojiro thinks so too. So if anything’s bothering you, like that stuff today, you can talk to me! Even if you don’t want to tell the others, at least tell me. Please?”

It had clearly taken her effort to get all of that out. She looked so earnest, Akira couldn’t be but so teasing in return. He looped his arm around her shoulders, smiling, and said, “I suppose so. You’ve already got the ‘excitable little sister’ trope going for you. It’s kind of too late to turn back now.” He huffed a breath as she elbowed him, smile widening to a full-blown grin. “Really though, thanks, Futaba. I’m...not sure what would have happened earlier if you and Sojiro hadn’t been there.”

“Let’s not ever find out,” she said pointedly, and he was inclined to agree. He thought of his silent phone, his disinterested parents, and shoved all of it aside. If they didn’t care, so be it. He had a family, right here, and they were all he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOEVER ADDED THIS THING TO THE TVTROPES FIC REC PAGE, YOU REDUCED ME TO WHALE NOISES AND FLAILING WHEN I SAW IT, SO THANK YOU. OH MY GOD. Anyway. Deep breath. Um...
> 
> Is it really October already? Akira’s never really dealt with his feelings about coming to Tokyo, not really. (Picture that comic with the dog where he’s going “This is fine” and everything’s on fire and you’ve got Akira in Tokyo, pretty much.) He’s fine as long as he’s not thinking about it, but something had to give eventually. All it took was the right trigger. 
> 
> I understand why they couldn’t flesh these scenes out more in the game (since it’s technically optional and Akira’s supposed to be a blank slate and whatever), but seriously, there’s a lot of parallels there that were probably not great for his mental state. Sojiro’s link especially, but with the way I’ve done Akira’s parents, Shinya’s too. 
> 
> Next chapter: AIRLOCK PUZZLE. 8D And something might be on fire, but YEAH my favorite part of Okumura’s Palace~ _SPACE~_


	24. Oct. 8, 2016 - Several Impulsive Decisions

It was the eleventh hour, and they were out of time.

Ann was still carrying around a pack of tissues, and Yusuke had been forced to ask for an extension on one of his art assignments, but it was the last day they had to find the Treasure before sending the calling card. Akira brought as many supplies as they could carry, knowing they’d have to go until they reached the end. They met the second everyone was out of school, snacking on what food they could eat on the ride to Roppongi before they headed into the Palace.

But when they stepped out of the safe room and rode up the elevator to the last area, everyone’s eyes went wide with shock. They were in a small room with an airlock and many windows. Outside, towers and rings of hallways stretched upwards towards the highest point of the spaceport, connected by even more airlocks that had materials from the factories being shuttled through space between them.

The Thieves clustered around the windows, and Haru said quietly, wonderingly, “I think that’s how we have to get through here. There are no other doors.”

“Oracle said this was the most direct route to the Treasure…” Morgana said.

“This cannot possibly be safe,” Yusuke said, eyeing the airlock suspiciously. “If we are truly in outer space, the vacuum would be enough to kill us.”

“I heard you can survive up to thirty seconds if you don’t hold your breath,” Futaba chirped. “Which, it would probably only take about five or ten to get from this lock to the one across the way there.”

Ann and Ryuji had their faces plastered to the window, trying to gauge the distance. “Yeah, it’s prolly not that far,” Ryuji agreed. “But, uh, there’s a different problem. If we open that other airlock, won’t the air blowin’ out keep us from gettin’ in?”

“Oh… That would make sense, wouldn’t it…?” Makoto said reluctantly.

Akechi and Haru were looking at Akira, who was contemplating the airlock door with the tiniest smile. Unfortunately, neither of them had been present for prior Palaces, and so neither knew how that smile meant trouble. So they weren’t quick enough to stop him when he shrugged and stepped forward, slamming his fist into the button and waving at his team as he launched into space. He could just barely hear their startled cries, focused on looking ahead as he soared through the gap between tubes.

It was incredible. Climbing castle ramparts and leaping from the ceilings of museums was one thing, but actually _flying?_ He was almost sad when it was over, the other airlock opening to accept him in with a burst of air. He took a deep breath, then went over to the window, waving at his visibly-agitated team.

It hadn’t been _entirely_ stupidity. The tubes visible further up had crates of materials travel between the airlocks without any problems. It had made sense that a person would be able to as well. But it was more fun to test it out for himself.

There was obviously some sort of miniature debate over who would go next, and then Akira watched in amusement as Haru came through the airlock, Morgana wrapped in one of her arms and her other hand holding her hat on as she squeezed her eyes shut. He stepped over to help her catch her balance when she landed, and she giggled breathlessly as she got her bearings.

“That was actually kind of fun,” she said.

Morgana yowled in objection. “Nope, nope, I didn’t like that at all!”

“One of us will hold onto you,” Akira assured him, turning back to watch as Yusuke and Futaba jumped, Futaba clutching at the artist’s jacket with one of Yusuke’s arms around her to keep them from floating apart. Makoto and Ryuji came next, hands linked tightly, followed by Ann and Akechi bringing up the rear. Everyone looked incredulous at what they were doing, talking eagerly about how clearly a Palace was different from regular outer space, but Akira found himself staring at Akechi. The other boy was smiling, his eyes bright with wonder and unfettered joy beneath his mask, and he was already checking the windows, looking at how the tubes linked together and figuring out that there would be a lot more space-jumping to get through this maze.

It was one of the most honest expressions Akira had ever seen on him. He wished he could see it more often.

Futaba, who looked a little green after the jump, summoned Necronomicon in a tiny form, roughly the size of a dinner plate and hovering above her cupped hands. They all crowded around as the navi-persona projected a map of the area, and she pointed at a nearby room.

“Okay, that’s where the elevator is, but it’s through that inactive airlock.” She poked at the map, highlighting the airlocks in different colors across the board. “There’s probably a switch somewhere that’ll cut on the inactive one, so you’ll have to make your way around. I can guide you with this, I think, but uh...can I stay here?”

Akira looked around. “Here?”

“Yeah!” she said. “You have to come back here anyway once you cut that lock on, and I’d...rather not do that jump thing again. It was cool, but I’m going to barf if I have to do many more of them.”

Akira hesitated, then nodded. “All right, but someone has to stay with you to make sure no shadows wander by. Mon--”

“I will!” Morgana said quickly, leaping at the opportunity to avoid any more airlocks. After another moment, Yusuke volunteered as well, and Akira nodded.

“That will work. The rest of you, with me. Oracle, we’re trusting you to keep us on the right track.”

Futaba saluted, and Akira led them to the other, active airlock.

The jumps after that were easy, and they paired off to make sure no one floated away. Makoto and Haru jumped together, Ann and Ryuji did the same, and Akira jumped with Akechi, privately pleased with the excuse to hold the other boy’s hand so much. Some jumps were so short that they wondered why it was even an airlock and not just a ramp, some were almost straight up or straight down, but all of them evoked a sense of wonder as they soared through the star-speckled void.

“I _love_ this,” Ann said after a battle with another shadow, though the enthusiasm in her voice was dampened slightly by her still-dripping nose. “We’ve done some cool things, but this might be the coolest so far.” She elbowed Akechi, who had put away his saber and was staring out the window. “Right?”

Akechi jumped at the jab to his ribs, but smiled placidly. “This is the only Palace I’ve been in, so I have no means of comparison, but if they’re all like this I can see why you would keep returning to the metaverse. Mementos is nothing in the face of this.”

“Yo, Oracle, what’s next?” Ryuji called.

**“Looks like it’s that one down at the end. It’s gonna be a heck of a jump, too.”** Futaba’s voice said, slightly tinny as it filtered through Necronomicon.

Ryuji immediately went to look, and his face fell. “Guys, that’s like...three times as far as any of the others. Are we gonna explode from holding our breath if we go that far?”

Akira shrugged. “It’s a Palace. I’m sure it’s fine.” He looked around at them all, and they nodded, stepping up to the airlock in their pairs, holding tightly to each other as they jumped. Akira watched through the window, making sure both pairs got safely to the other side before looking around for Akechi. He was staring out the window again, seemingly lost in thought.

Despite Ann and Ryuji being the ones recovering from stuffy heads, it was Akechi who seemed the most out of it today. He’d been getting gradually more distracted when they weren’t fighting shadows or figuring out which jumps they needed. And even though he was still happy about all their flights through space, there was enough melancholy in his expression sometimes that Akira knew it wasn’t the only reason for his distraction.

He didn’t like the hint of sadness he saw. He’d rather have Akechi smiling, or at the very least surprised or annoyed at him. And Joker’s mask made him more confident, so he decided on something he would have no nerve for in the real world and stepped forward to coil an arm around Akechi’s waist. “Ready?”

Akechi glanced at him flatly. “What are you doing?”

Akira grinned. “It’s a lot farther. We need to make sure we don’t fly apart halfway across.”

“The others were quite all right simply holding hands,” Akechi said, but he didn’t actually try to get out of Akira’s grip, just leaned away a bit and tilted his head curiously. “If I didn’t know you so well, I’d mistake this for an attempt to fluster me.”

Akira laughed. “What does that mean?”

Akechi shifted so the point of his mask just touched Akira’s nose. “You and your friends are absurdly physically affectionate. I see you all leaning all over each other quite frequently at meetings, and you do not even bother to disguise _your_ habit of throwing yourself in people’s laps to be petted. You are shameless.”

“Not quite shameless,” Akira replied. “But you just sound like you’re jealous I haven’t tried to get you to pet me yet.”

“That’s ridicul--!” Before Akechi could get the words out, Akira punched the airlock button and sent them into space, leaving Akechi to clutch at his coat in surprise. Akira relished the shock on his face, keeping his arm snugly around him until they landed on the other side and Akechi stumbled away.

“Warn someone before you just hit the button!”

Ann covered her mouth to hide a giggle, giving Akira a meaningful look, and pointed. “I think that’s the last switch down there. Should we go ahead and pull it, leader?”

“Yeah. The sooner we get back to Futaba and the others, the sooner we can plot the rest of the route and get out of here,” Akira replied. “We’re going to need to be rested for tomorrow.”

It did, in fact, turn out to be the correct switch, and they were able to return to their teammates quickly. Futaba once again latched onto Yusuke for the jump, and Akira held onto Morgana as they crossed the last gap through space to the elevator.

There was another set of airlocks on the floor above, but another safe room was up there as well, and Futaba was quick to set up shop in there with Morgana, leaving Yusuke free to take his turn soaring through space as well.

“I do sincerely wish our cameras worked in the metaverse,” the artist said after a particularly long jump, framing Akira in the rectangle of his fingers as he landed. “Anti-gravity offers so many interesting effects.”

“Ain’t Oracle workin’ on something so our cameras will work?” Ryuji said. “I feel like she mentioned it a while back.”

Akira shrugged. “I don’t remember. But maybe we’ll have cameras in time for selfies in the next Palace,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, just what we need,” Akechi said. “Our resident showoff, accidentally plastering photos of himself all over social media.”

Makoto stifled a laugh. “Crow has a point. We already deal with Skull’s big mouth.”

“Exactly. We shouldn’t have to worry about Joker, too.” 

Akechi had an incredibly smug grin on his face. Akira had a sudden, powerful urge to kiss it away. He settled for winking at him instead. “Crow and kettle, again. I’m not the one who fights like he’s onstage, with my glowing sword and my fancy ray-gun.”

Akechi opened his mouth to retort, and Haru stepped between them, clearly trying not to laugh. “Come on. Don’t we need to route the Treasure sometime today?”

“You’re absolutely right, Noir,” Akira said grandly. “Crow, everyone, you can’t be getting distracted like that.”

Akechi and Ryuji exchanged a glance, and promptly shoved Akira out the nearest airlock in a spectacular display of teamwork.

***

The rest of the maze was solved in short order thanks to Futaba’s navigation, and the whole team made the last jump together to the final elevator. As they ascended towards the Treasure room, Akechi glanced around at them all.

“I don’t believe you ever explained why we cannot just take the Treasure now,” he said curiously. “Why do we even need to return tomorrow?”

Morgana looked up at him. “Because the Treasure doesn’t actually materialize until the Palace ruler realizes it’s in danger. They have to actually be focusing on it for it to take a concrete shape.” As the elevator reached the top and they all piled out into the final room, Morgana pointed up ahead. “See, look. That’s what will become the Treasure.”

Akechi blinked at the hazy, glowing mist that floated at the end of the walkway. “So sending the calling card… That’s what alerts the ruler’s inner self that their desires are in danger, and forces the Treasure to take a corporeal form. The calling card is a necessary step, not just a dramatic flourish!” His eyes lit up with understanding and excitement, and the other Thieves exchanged smiles.

Ann slung an arm around Akechi’s shoulders. “So now that we’ve found the closest safe room and mapped out exactly where the Treasure is, we can come back tomorrow and snatch it. We have to plan the route beforehand, though, because the card sends the Palace’s defenses through the roof.”

“That’s incredible,” Akechi said. “How did you figure it out?”

“Mona taught us,” Akira said. “We’d never have gotten this far without his help.”

“I see…” Akechi glanced at Morgana, then back at the Treasure, and nodded. “In any case, we’ve completed our objective for the day, have we not?”

“Tomorrow, we steal my father’s heart,” Haru said softly.

“You’re still okay with this, right?” Makoto asked, and Haru nodded.

“It has to be done. For the sake of the company, and for my sake as well.”

They left the metaverse and made their way back to Roppongi Station, and Yusuke pulled out the calling card they’d made and passed it to Haru.

“So Haru will hand over the card in the morning, and we’ll go as soon as she gets to Leblanc and confirms that her dad’s seen it,” Akira said. “Everyone make sure to wind down tonight; we don’t know what to expect tomorrow.”

The Thieves all agreed to meet at Leblanc in the morning and went their separate ways. But Akechi was looking melancholy again for some reason, and Akira caught his hand before he could depart for a train. “Hey. Want to come back to Leblanc with me?”

Futaba and Morgana stared at him, but he managed to keep his expression neutral in the face of Akechi’s puzzled gaze.

“Why?” the detective asked quietly.

“Why not?” Akira shot back, feeling daring, and Akechi chuckled.

“I can see you’ll be difficult if I refuse, so all right.” To Futaba and Morgana’s shock, he didn’t let go of Akira’s hand. “I can indulge you for a little while.”

***

They were all quiet on the train ride back to Yongen-Jaya and the walk through the backstreets, until Akira bid their other companion goodnight and led Goro into the empty, dark cafe.

“Want some coffee?” he asked with a smile. “I can make decaf.”

Goro shook his head. “Why did you invite me here?” he asked. “It’s late, and we’re supposed to be resting for tomorrow.” This was a mistake. He shouldn’t be here, alone in this place with Akira.

Akira sighed, and glanced around the cafe. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said. “A certain little gremlin has the cafe bugged.” He was already heading for the stairs as he spoke.

“She _what?_ ” Akechi blurted, following him without really thinking about it. Sakura Futaba was a truly terrifying random element. _“Why?”_

“She says it’s to keep an eye on Sojiro, but who knows if that’s the whole truth,” Akira said offhandedly. He flopped down on the bed, and Goro took a seat in the desk chair facing him. Akira hesitated for a moment, as if figuring out what to say, and then began, “Something’s bothering you. I don’t know what it is, but I want to help, if you’re willing to talk about it.”

Goro laughed lightly, hoping it didn’t sound forced. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed. Forgive me if I worried you.” What was he supposed to say? That he was dwelling on how he was going to kill Okumura tomorrow? That he was desperately trying to keep from thinking of how there had been another way to change someone all along? “Did you meet Morgana after already entering the metaverse?”

“Yeah. It was right after I awakened my persona.” Akira told him a short version of what had happened in Kamoshida’s Palace, and Goro listened with rapt attention. Akira finished with, “I wasn’t joking when I said we wouldn’t have gotten this far without Morgana.”

“I can see that. It’s strange to imagine what a difference he made. If you hadn’t met him, perhaps you might have killed Kamoshida’s shadow, lacking the knowledge of how to change someone without breaking them,” Goro said quietly.

“Ann almost did anyway,” Akira admitted, and Goro’s eyes flew wide.

“She did?” he asked.

Akira nodded. “Changed her mind in the end, though. She said it was better for him to grovel with his guilt for the rest of his life. And he’s never going to get out of prison, so he’s going to have to live with that.”

“True…” Goro murmured. That didn’t exactly make him feel better. He got to his feet, schooling his expression into something apologetic. “Well, I should be getting home…”

“Wait. Please don’t leave yet? You like sci-fi, right?” Akira said. “Play Star Forneus with me.”

“Star...what now?” It was amazing how awkward ‘Kurusu Akira’ could be compared to ‘Joker’. What was this, all of a sudden? It certainly hadn’t been subtle.

_He enjoys your company,_ Robin murmured. _Perhaps his feelings align with yours._

_He’s keeping an eye on you,_ Loki grumbled. _And he’s probably trying to manipulate you._

“Forneus. It has a two-player mode.” Akira walked over to the table, starting up a game system that looked so old Goro was surprised it still worked. He dragged the couch out from the wall so there was space for both of them to sit and flopped down, patting the spot next to him. “Come on. One round, just ‘til we run out of lives. I’m used to Morgana hanging out with me before bed, and routine is important and stuff. Help your leader sleep?”

Goro stared at him, hesitant, like Akira had just invited him on a roller coaster instead of to sit on his couch. Loki wanted him to leave. Robin wanted him to do something exceptionally stupid, no matter how nice it might be. But eventually he chose neither and took a seat, accepting the unfamiliar controller. “Where _did_ Morgana go?” he asked, looking around as he finally properly registered that the cat was missing. “He was with us on the train.”

“Sojiro’s out overnight because he’s meeting with a distributor in the morning,” Akira said, shrugging. “So Morgana’s staying with Futaba so she’s not by herself.”

“I see.” Waving the controller a bit, he added, “I...haven’t played video games in a very long time. And nothing on this system.”

“It’s not too bad. The crosspad moves your ship, and the buttons shoot. You just have to shoot all the enemies to get to the end of the level.” Akira smiled at him, practically overflowing with friendliness, and Goro couldn’t help but nod. It didn’t seem too hard, and he would still be able to get home at a reasonable time.

***

He’d underestimated them, apparently. Not only was the game fun, they were such a good team that their lives lasted _forever_. Their two ships darted back and forth, blowing away anything in their way as the levels got harder and harder.

“There, there!” Goro cried, gesturing with the controller as he tapped frantically at the buttons. “The eye is its weak point!”

“I see it! Watch out for the death lasers, though, it’ll fire if we stay directly in front of it too long!” Akira responded, his grin almost manic as they blasted their way through.

In the end, their downfall came from simple exhaustion. It was late, and being so tired from spending all afternoon and part of the evening in the Palace made them make foolish mistakes that ate up the rest of their extra lives. Goro realized he’d shut his eyes at some point and was leaning on Akira’s shoulder. When he opened them again, he saw the game over screen flashing at them forlornly and chuckled. “That was...more fun than I was expecting.” He blinked heavily, getting to his feet and checking his phone. There were two missed calls, and the last train had been and gone. “Oh dear…”

Akira, who was rolling up the controller cords, said something he didn’t quite hear. Goro made a confused, tired noise, and Akira smiled, getting up and nudging him towards the bed. “C’mon, just sleep here.”

The detective was too tired to parse any ulterior motive to the offer, and stumbled where Akira led. He figured he should be embarrassed about changing in front of the other boy, but he was just too tired to care, and he took the t-shirt and flannel pants Akira offered without complaint.

Akira’s futon (though he wasn’t sure if you could call it that when it was a mattress lying on crates) was just large enough to fit two people comfortably. Distantly Goro realized one of them should probably sleep on the couch, but then his head hit the pillow and he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> **RANK U--**  
>  wait  
> no  
> not yet ;)  
> 
> 
> Akira: [“Are you gonna stay the night? Doesn’t mean we’re bound for life…”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qLKegMgOYM)  
>  Akechi: “Why are you… like… Zzzzzzzzz…”
> 
> The airlock puzzle has a lot more windows, because everyone needs the opportunity to look into space with awe and wonder. Also a half-foreshadowing mention of the cameras working in the metaverse, because seriously, how did they broadcast Shido’s calling card in their thief gear if the cameras don’t work? It’s easy to just say “Futaba” and be done with it, but…they didn’t even really do that.
> 
> I picture Star Forneus as some sort of Gradius/Defender-type game, although I personally prefer Galaga or Gyruss. Especially Gyruss. Chiptune-remix Toccata and Fugue as background music? [Yes.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNc7VdD-ink)
> 
> Also, happy birthday to Minato and Hamuko. The twins are 24 now, which is kind of impressive considering they were supposed to die eight years ago. ;)
> 
> Next chapter: We’re going after Okumura’s shadow, of course. There’s definitely nothing else happening. Why would you think that? Don’t look at me like that.


	25. Oct. 9, 2016 - Just One Good Thing

When Goro woke up again, it was incredibly early in the morning. Squinting at the barely-visible clock that sat on the top shelf of Akira’s desk revealed that the time hovered just around three in the morning. He knew he should go back to sleep; they needed to be well-rested for whatever stealing Okumura’s Treasure would entail. But now that the edge had been taken off his exhaustion, he couldn’t stop thinking.

It had been a mistake to agree to come up here. It had been a mistake to play the ridiculous space-shooter that Akira had pulled out. And most of all, it had been a mistake to agree to stay, no matter how tired he was. But on some level he’d known that when the game ended, he’d have to go back to real life, and leave...whatever this was. Playing video games in an attic with his rival would stop, and they would have to go back to being Detective Prince Akechi Goro and Shujin student Kurusu Akira.

Or, rather, metaverse assassin ‘Black Mask’ and Leader of Hearts, Joker, if he was feeling cynical. But it was hard to feel cynical when he was this comfortable. This was why his exhausted brain hadn’t done the smart thing and gone back to real life. He was _comfortable_.

They were closer than usual. Too close, Goro acknowledged in some faraway part of his thoughts, but he didn’t actually do anything to put any distance between them. Akira was curled into his side with an arm slung over his waist and his face pressed into Goro’s neck, and the detective was loathe to move him. He wasn’t used to this much physical contact, but Akira had latched on like a koala in his sleep, and it wasn’t… unpleasant. Everything was so warm; he felt like if he moved away from Akira now, he would freeze to death, missing the heat the other boy radiated.

He shouldn’t be doing this. This was the leader of the Phantom Thieves. This was a boy with an invisible target on his back that Goro was going to have to aim at one day, if things didn’t change soon. But this was also just plain _Akira_ , the boy who’d wormed his way into Goro’s life in a way no one else had ever managed. And as Akira stirred and sleepily nosed against his jaw, Goro squashed down any other thoughts on that. Those were too dangerous, even at absurd hours of the morning.

Akira made a disgruntled noise and shifted restlessly. Goro tilted his head to look, and he felt Akira freeze as his breath fanned over the thief’s cheek. That had been another mistake. He shouldn’t have moved. He shouldn’t have reacted at all to Akira’s squirming. It would be too embarrassing if Akira woke up completely, so he just stayed where he was, trying to keep his breathing even.

He felt Akira take a shaky breath and press closer, his lips brushing Goro’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, just a mere centimeter away.

_Dangerous_. It sounded like Loki, but Goro couldn’t be sure.

He tightened the arm he had around Akira’s waist out of sheer reflex.

In the end, he couldn’t be certain which of them actually moved first. All he was aware of was that they were suddenly kissing feverishly, Akira’s hand sliding up from his waist to cup the side of his face. Goro stopped thinking, leaning into the touch and shifting so their bodies pressed close. Akira made a faint sound, tangling their legs beneath the blankets and taking a quick, gasping breath, and Goro pulled him back in before he could close his mouth, sliding their tongues together before he really knew what he was doing.

Akira tasted of coffee, of spice, of something warm and undefinable that Goro couldn’t get enough of. One of his hands curled into Akira’s unruly hair, keeping him in place, and the other settled on his hip, too low to be an innocent touch. Akira didn’t resist, returning every kiss with equal fervor, and Goro could feel something in his chest burn, an ache he’d come to associate with Akira specifically. He’d never kissed anyone like this before. Never kissed anyone at all, really, other than polite pecks on the cheek when obligation required it. But he drank in the feeling of Akira’s lips like he was starving, ignoring the nagging feeling that he needed to stop.

But then Akira pushed their hips flush together, a whimper muffled against Goro’s mouth, and Goro broke the kiss and shoved away from him in sudden, panicked realization of what he was doing. No, no, this was a mistake, this wasn’t… He couldn’t… Akira was…

He sat up, fully prepared to climb out of bed and rush out of Leblanc without a second thought, regardless of the time, but he froze as Akira’s slim fingers curled around his wrist, stopping him as effectively as an iron shackle.

“Stay,” Akira murmured, his voice barely a whisper in the dark attic. “We can talk in the morning, just...stay. Please.”

Goro wanted to ignore him. To shake him off and push him aside and just _go_. That was what he should do. But the pleading in Akira’s voice jabbed at something deep down, and he hesitated.

_Don’t leave me!_

Sighing heavily, he ignored the still-nagging urge to storm out of Leblanc in Akira’s pajamas in the dead of night, and instead scooted as close to the wall as he could. Leaving would mean climbing over Akira, anyway, unless he decided to get up too, and that...probably wasn’t the best idea right now. So they ended up lying there side-by-side, facing each other with knees barely brushing, and Akira’s hand still holding his.

Goro closed his eyes and tried not to think.

***

When Akira woke up, he was the only one in bed, and he shot upright to look around his room. Akechi was seated on the couch, dressed with his borrowed pajamas folded neatly beside him, flipping through something on his phone. He glanced up when he noticed Akira moving.

“Finally awake, then, sleeping beauty?” he said dryly.

“You do think I’m beautiful, then?” Akira shot back, stretching. But then he said, more sober, “I thought for sure I’d wake up and you wouldn’t be here.”

“You asked me to stay,” Akechi pointed out. “It would be pointless to leave and then have to return for the meeting, as well. And we need to talk about...what happened.”

“You mean, the fact that you kissed me?” Akira asked, delighted to note the pink tinge that washed over Akechi’s cheeks.

“You kissed _me_ ,” Akechi hissed. “Don’t make this _my_ fault.”

“I think we kissed each other.” Akira shrugged. It didn’t really matter, and he got up to dig through his clothing box for some jeans and a hoodie. “The important thing is that we kissed, right? Which, before you say anything, I’m okay with.” He reached up to fiddle with his bangs, having a feeling he was just as pink as Akechi. “I’ve, uh… kind of wanted to do that for a while now.”

For some reason, Akechi looked _disappointed_ at the admission, and as Akira got back up, bundle of clothes in his arms and mind attempting to process what that look could mean, Akechi asked flatly, “Was that what this was, then?”

“...what?” Akira said dumbly, still trying to catch up.

Akechi tucked his phone into his coat pocket and got up, curling his hands around his elbows like he didn’t know what else to do with them. Akira’s gaze flickered to them briefly, the memory of those hands in his hair, ungloved, still sharp. They were safely back beneath the leather now, and Akechi said softly, almost accusingly, “Inviting me up here, convincing me to stay… Some sort of ploy to get me into your bed? Why?”

“What?” Akira said again, more from surprise this time. “No… There wasn’t anywhere else to sleep, and we were tired. If we’d tried to go get the extra futon, we’d have fallen down the stairs. I didn’t...plan any of this.”

“I should have just slept on the couch, then!” Akechi complained, sounding more frustrated than actually upset.

Akira rolled his eyes. “Have you seen my couch?” he asked wryly. “It’s a bench pretending to be a couch. No one should sleep on that thing. It’s not even long enough for a person taller than Futaba, and everyone is taller than Futaba.” He faltered, staring at his feet. “I’m sorry if I...made you uncomfortable. I just… I _do_ like you, and just wanted you to stay a little longer. I wasn’t planning to kiss you, and I won’t do it again if you didn’t like it.”

Akechi looked at the floor. “It...wasn’t objectionable. But Akira… we can’t.”

“Why not?” Akira asked. “If… If you don’t have objections to me kissing you, if you...like me… Why can’t we at least try?” He chewed his lip anxiously. This was why he _hadn’t_ just kissed Akechi one of the five hundred other times he’d wanted to, despite Arsène’s urging. Rejection was terrifying, especially without a reason.

“I’m a detective, Akira,” Akechi said flatly. “After today, I won’t be a phantom thief anymore. I’ll go back to being the one trying to catch you, even if I’ve seen that you aren’t malevolent. Do you really think we could manage a relationship like that?”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Akira asked. He thought of what Arsène had said, and blurted, “It’s kind of romantic, isn’t it? The thief and the detective? And I won’t be a phantom thief forever, you know.”

Akechi sighed heavily. He was quiet for a long time, looking like he was struggling with himself, a war in his eyes. Finally, he looked up at Akira, something unreadable in his expression. “Give me...a little time to think. Please. We need to focus on Okumura for now, but after the Palace today… Perhaps we can talk.”

It wasn’t a ‘no’. Akira knew it was too early to hope for anything, and that he _shouldn’t_ hope for anything, but Akechi hadn’t punched him and stomped out of the cafe, so that was something. There was the tiny matter of what his friends would think, but that was something to worry about if anything actually came of this. So for now, he smiled brightly. “That’s fine. It’s...no pressure or anything.” He glanced down at his clothes. “Give me a minute to get dressed, and I’ll make you breakfast at least. We can’t steal a Treasure on an empty stomach.”

“That...would be nice,” Akechi agreed, and Akira mentally cheered. At least that was one point in his favor.

***

It shouldn’t have been so hard to make pancakes.

They only took a few ingredients. There were only two steps to cook them. So why on earth were his pancakes such a disaster?

Akira had proudly put a plate of fluffy, perfectly-golden pancakes on the bar in front of Akechi, ignoring his protests that it wasn’t part of Leblanc’s usual menu. He’d shrugged, brushing it off as Leblanc not being open yet and Sojiro not minding. He’d pridefully admired Akechi’s tiny smile as he doused the pancakes in syrup and took a bite.

And then promptly deflated when Akechi made a face, swallowed awkwardly, and said, “The middle of these are raw.”

“What?” Akira leaned over to look, and sure enough, the centers of the pancakes oozed uncooked batter. “Shit, I’m sorry. What did I not do right?”

Akechi looked them over. “They’re too thick, and the pan is probably too hot for them to cook all the way through. Add a bit more milk and cut the pan down.” When he met Akira’s eyes, though, he was smiling, trying not to laugh. “You overeager idiot.”

“Hey, I’ve never done this before,” Akira objected, snatching the plate and ducking back into the kitchen. As much as he hated to take Akechi’s advice, the other boy was the expert, and Akira’s next batch of pancakes was slightly thinner and more even. He stuffed one in his mouth as he put the others on a plate, confirming it was cooked this time, and set the plate on the counter just in time for Futaba, Morgana, and Sojiro to come in the front door.

“What are you doing?” Sojiro asked, going to hang up his hat. He didn’t sound disapproving, just puzzled.

“Making me delicious pancakes,” Akechi commented, and took a bite. Once he’d swallowed, he added, “These are, at least. The first plate was terrible.”

Morgana jumped from Futaba’s shoulder and made his way to his usual perch on the TV shelf. Futaba flung herself onto a stool. “How did he get here before me? I want pancakes too!” she complained.

“You must have been here really early,” Morgana observed.

“It’s an important day, and I pride myself on being on time,” Akechi said smoothly, as Akira poured another round of pancakes for Futaba.

“You know I have to open the cafe soon, right?” Sojiro pointed out, and Akira shrugged.

“Are you going to tell the city’s biggest pancake fan and the girl that could destroy our bank accounts in five minutes that they can’t sit here and have pancakes?” he asked, flipping the ones that were cooking. Sojiro glanced at Futaba, who was grinning, and Akechi, who was eating with an air of contentment, and rolled his eyes.

“I suppose not,” he said, and Akira just barely caught a glimpse of his fond smile before he headed into the back room.

***

Leblanc was cleaned up quickly and opened on time, the rest of the Thieves trailed in gradually, and once Okumura arrived and confirmed that her father had seen the card, they gathered their supplies and set off for Roppongi to enter the Palace.

They hadn’t been joking about the calling card raising the alarm. Goro could feel the oppressive atmosphere as soon as they entered the metaverse. Everything was tinted red, and the shadows were on high alert as they made their way to the Treasure room. It was probably terrible to think so, but Goro had to admit that it was _easier_ to slip through a Palace to kill, instead of setting off alarms and being forced to sneak through or be swarmed. It wasn’t as though he’d been taking the easy way out on _purpose_ , but...

The Treasure manifested as some sort of engine component, but Okumura’s shadow had been waiting for them, and they were forced to chase and confront him to get anywhere near it. He summoned waves and waves of his cognitive workers, forcing them to use their personas to knock them out with any kind of success. But when they finally got through the robots, Okumura himself went down in a few hits, with Akira stepping aside to let Noir take the final swing.

Goro leveled his gun at the crumpled shadow, but Akira put a hand on his arm.

“It’s okay,” he said. “He’s down. He won’t try to fight back anymore.”

“Is this like the people in Mementos, then? You just talk to them, and they’re better?” Goro asked quietly, watching Okumura talk to her father. He lowered the gun, but didn’t put it away, and it felt like a lead weight in his hand. All he needed was a few moments where none of them were looking, and he could do it. But they were all so close… It was going to be difficult.

Akira nodded. “And once we take the Treasure, with the core of his desire gone, he’ll admit to his crimes and apologize.”

Goro gripped the gun tighter. “It just seems...odd. To rip a piece out of someone’s psyche. You’re almost forcing them to feel guilt, aren’t you?”

“You’ve heard Noir talk,” Akira said. “He’s not supposed to be like this. Think of it like...like cutting out a tumor, I suppose. He shouldn’t be living with a distortion. It’s not good for him or the people around him.”

“I suppose not…” Goro couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more that even the Phantom Thieves hadn’t worked out; some way to clear a distortion without taking someone’s Treasure. Desires weren’t bad, in moderation. They were what drove someone forward. What would he be without his own, after all? Probably homeless and still alone. Probably wondering why he bothered to stay alive. So to take someone else’s away… Not that he should care about the sort of people they’d targeted so far, but what motivation for life did Madarame or Kaneshiro have left without their desires?

The Palace began to rumble around them, and Morgana was already changing to his bus form so he could get them out of there before it collapsed. Okumura hung back, looking between the bus and her father anxiously as the shadow began to dissolve into motes of light.

“Should we take him with us?” she asked, and Kitagawa shook his head.

“He is returning to his proper self, and we need to return to reality,” the artist said, offering her a hand, and she reluctantly took it and headed for the bus.

Goro hesitated as the other Thieves began to pile into the bus, weighing the gun at his side. Right now. This was his window. He began to lift the gun, but one of the Thieves called his name, and he glanced over his shoulder. Takamaki and Akira were hanging out of the passenger doors, waving at him to hurry up. They hadn’t noticed the gun. When he looked back, Okumura’s shadow had vanished, and Goro shoved the gun into his belt and ran, letting them pull him into the middle seat. There was no time for seatbelts as Niijima floored it, and the Thieves just clutched onto each other, trying not to bounce into the roof.

And Goro tried to contain the strange panic that came with having failed. It had never happened before, not while working for Shido. In the past, whenever he messed up, it was the end. Sent away, discarded, abandoned. Logically, he knew Shido couldn’t get rid of him so carelessly, but it didn’t stop his anxiety from skyrocketing. So he held tightly onto the other Thieves, and thought about what to say next. He still had to talk to Akira. Maybe there was one thing he could do right today. 

Okumura would still die. He knew too much, and would be too much of a liability with a change of heart. But Shido would have to find another method. With his mafia ties, there were ways to make people disappear, but there would be no way to blame it on the Phantom Thieves. They’d been granted a reprieve, which meant there was still time to convince them to stop. If Okumura disappeared, perhaps they would learn their lesson.

If they weren’t in danger from the police, perhaps it would be okay, just for now, to…

***

As the Thieves caught their breath and began to go their separate ways home, promising to plan their victory party later, Akira came to a halt as Akechi called his name.

“Can we talk?” the detective asked, and Akira practically shoved his bag plus Morgana into Futaba’s arms. He knew _exactly_ what Akechi wanted to talk about, and it was something he’d really rather not have his stubborn cat around for.

“I’ll buy fancy sushi and that new Featherman figure you wanted if you guys go home without me,” he said quickly.

Morgana started to complain, but Futaba fixed Akechi with a shrewd look and shoved the cat down into the bag, muffling him. “Secret meetings, huh?”

Akechi smiled, the edge of television-ready plastic visible in the curve of his lips. “There’s merely something I wish to ask his advice on, and I would prefer to speak with him alone. You understand, right?”

Futaba shrugged. “Pretty much. ‘Kira gives good advice. Don’t keep him out too late, though, or Mona will never shut up about it.” She grinned as there was a loud yowl from the bag, then turned and headed for the train station, running to catch up to Yusuke and Ryuji.

Akira watched her go, grateful that she seemed to understand, and then glanced at Akechi and tried to keep the nervousness out of his expression. “So…”

“Come with me?” The plastic had disappeared from Akechi’s expression, replaced with something uncertain and maybe even vulnerable, and Akira nodded.

“Wherever you want.”

Akechi ended up leading him to Inokashira Park, dodging clusters of people out for their Sunday strolls and turning down an out-of-the-way bike trail. As they walked down the path, Akira felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t say something to laugh off his nervousness, and joked, “It’s not the right season for cherry blossoms. I don’t know if falling leaves will have the same effect, if you were planning on a dramatic confession.” Akechi was still hard to read; Akira wasn’t exactly sure where this was going, other than down a deserted path. It reminded him that the team still found Akechi a little suspicious, even if Akira didn’t anymore.

Akechi sighed. “You may have a secret identity that keeps you out of the public eye, but some of us aren’t so lucky,” he said, slowing to a stop as they approached a small clearing with benches. A creek cut through the woods a little ways off the trail, and there was no one around at all. “People rarely come this way, and I’d rather the tabloids not be filled with photos of ‘Akechi Goro and his mystery beau’.”

Akira took a sharp breath. “Does that mean…?” he began, feeling his heart rate increase almost instantly as Akechi turned to face him.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Akechi murmured. “It would be much easier if you weren’t a phantom thief. If I wasn’t...” He took a step forward, into Akira’s personal space, and tentatively brushed their lips together. “This can’t last. I hope you know that. But...I’m willing to try, for now.”

“That’s enough,” Akira said, feeling a relieved grin spreading across his face. “That’s more than enough. And I’ll prove it to you; we can figure out how to make it work.”

“I still have to put my work first. And we can’t be public about it,” Akechi cautioned, but he didn’t object when Akira wrapped his arms around his waist to pull him close.

“Of course not. You just said, about the tabloids. I’ll behave. Thief’s honor,” Akira said, though the grin kind of ruined the sentiment.

“As a thief, you have _no_ concept of how to behave,” Akechi countered. He hesitated, then said, “What will your friends think?”

“Maybe I just won’t tell them, and we can be each other’s dirty little secret,” Akira laughed. Having Akechi join the Thieves had done wonders for their opinion of him, but the fact that he was quitting wouldn’t win him any points. And he was pretty sure a few of them still thought he was the murderer, too, despite everything. He knew Makoto did, at least.

Akechi’s arms settled around his shoulders, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the detective’s cheek. “I’m so glad. You’ve had so many chances to hit me today, and I’m getting this instead.”

“Hit you? What?”

Akira shrugged as best he could without letting go of Akechi. “You could have shoved me out of bed or punched me this morning when I confessed or dragged me down here to slap me and throw me into the creek. I’m glad you didn’t.” He tilted his head, thinking, then chimed, “Hey, does this mean I can call you Goro?”

He was happy all over again when Akechi almost immediately started turning pink. “I, ah… No one...calls me that. But...all right.”

“Well, now someone does, Goro~” Akira teased, and Akechi ducked his head.

“You’re awful,” he said, with no bite to the words.

“Mhm.” Akira kissed his forehead, then dragged him forward into a hug. He felt Akechi go stiff for a moment, then sink into it, his fingers digging into the back of Akira’s shirt and his face pressed to Akira’s neck.

Akira couldn’t stop smiling. This had to be a sign, didn’t it? That his awful luck might finally be changing for the better. He had his friends, freedom in the metaverse, the anonymous adoration of the public, and he had Akechi. What more could he ask for?

***

Goro had promised Akira that he would come to the victory party even if he wasn’t planning to continue being a phantom thief, received his first goodbye kiss in almost fifteen years, and somehow managed to get on a train back to his apartment despite the fact that he was still reeling from the day he’d had. He’d started the day accidentally making out with the Trickster, and now said Trickster was his... _boyfriend_.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him happy. He’d wanted to stand there and just keep hugging Akira as long as he could, soaking up warmth and human contact and everything he’d been missing. It was almost strange. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted Akira until he had him.

But as nice as it was, it felt equally like a mistake. Even if Akira’s affection was genuine, Goro couldn’t picture the future. Couldn’t picture Akira wanting him when he learned everything about him. Couldn’t picture having to keep a mask on for the rest of his life, even though Akira had already been accepting of what little bits of the real him showed through the cracks. 

So he could have this, just for now, just one good thing for as long as he could get away with. And then he would end it, on his own terms, before it could crash and destroy him.

When he reached his apartment, he took a moment to put his things down, and then called Shido. Who knew? His failure might end things for him.

_“Has everything been taken care of?”_ Shido’s voice was impatient when he answered, and Goro swallowed hard.

“No, sir. Unfortunately I was unable to eliminate the shadow before the change of heart took effect.”

_“You have **one job,** Akechi. You know that I don’t tolerate failure.”_

“I had to go along with at least one change of heart, or they would suspect me. They still don’t know anything about my true abilities or actions.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and then Shido sighed. _“Very well. We can still deal with this. In the meantime, I have a list of people who need to go a bit mad. I’m assuming you’re still capable of that much?”_

“Yes, sir. I will not disappoint you again.”

_“See that you don’t. Failure will not be forgiven a second time.”_

Shido hung up on him, and Akechi stared down at his phone, knuckles white where he gripped it. He could still do this. He could pull this off. Shido hadn’t lost faith in him yet. He would still be able to destroy him.

And maybe with one less casualty than he’d expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **RANK UP**   
>  **CONFIDANTE AKIRA KURUSU/GORO AKECHI**   
>  **FOOL/JUSTICE RANK 6**   
> 
> 
> Akira: [“You claim it’s not in the cards; that fate is pulling you miles away and out of reach of me. But who can stop me if I decide that you’re my destiny?”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gdjR2lvIfJ4)  
>  Akechi, with equal panic and happiness: _“Why are you like this.”_
> 
> *middle fingers up at the ‘slow burn’ tag* It is _definitely_ a slow burn when it takes over 60,000 words for them to kiss. JFC. And speaking from experience, it’s definitely possible to finally just snap and start kissing someone. XD I love these dumb kids.
> 
> The original playlist song for this chapter was [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkRE9J5eSuQ), but as mentioned, I am absolutely in love with the Greatest Showman soundtrack and “Rewrite the Stars” usurped it because, uh, it’s like they basically wrote the song for this and I can’t stop crying?
> 
> Next chapter: You’ve just taken down your fifth target, gained two new members, and won the Super Bowl! **WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW?!**


	26. Oct. 11, 2016 - The Happiest Place on Earth

“This… This place really is empty!”

The Phantom Thieves, with one new member and one supposedly-ex-member, stood at the end of the main street of Destinyland’s Dream Kingdom, looking over the deserted park with awe.

Haru had insisted that visiting the school festival with all of them would be enough, but when the rest were still interested in holding a proper party, she’d offered up the Okumura reservation of Destinyland that was going unused in the face of her father’s current state. And so here they were, with the entire park to themselves, barely any idea where to start, and plenty of time to figure it out before the press conference that evening.

“I never thought I’d ever get to visit here…” Akira said quietly, hands in his pockets, Morgana on his shoulder. It was expensive, and he doubted he would have had much fun. His parents would have expected him to be on his best behavior, and worrying about not upsetting them definitely would have crippled his enjoyment.

“I’ve been, but I was a looooot younger. Actually, I think it was DestinySea, not this park,” Ann said. “Mom and Dad brought me to celebrate after my first time modelling.”

Futaba thrust her hand in the air excitedly. “Akechi and I are going on Galaxy Mountain!” she yelled, grabbing for the aforementioned detective with her other hand.

“No roller coasters for me!” Morgana groaned. “I’ve told you guys, I don’t do puke rides.”

Akechi glanced at him, looking puzzled, but was distracted as Futaba tugged on his arm. “You’ll go with me, right?” she asked.

“Of course I will,” he said, tearing his focus away from the cat.

“How would you even go on a rollercoaster, Morgana? You don’t fit the seatbelts,” Makoto pointed out.

Morgana nodded. “Exactly!”

“Why not split up for now, and agree to meet at a central location later?” Yusuke suggested. “Is there something we all want to ride together, that we can do last?”

“What about Splash Mountain?” Haru suggested. “Everyone would fit in one raft, it’s an easy enough ride that someone would be able to hold Morgana, and they take a photo at the end. It could be commemorative.”

The group agreed that Splash Mountain sounded perfect, and slowly began to split into smaller groups to do their own thing. Ann watched in amusement as Futaba dragged Akechi and Akira towards Galaxy Mountain, then turned to Haru and Makoto. “Do you guys want to come ride the teacups with me? And then we can do Lightning Mountain or something.”

“I’d like to ride It’s a Small World, if anyone else wishes to come,” Yusuke said.

“Not me. I’m gonna do the drop tower,” Ryuji said, waving and heading off into the park.

“Small World’s on the way to the teacups, so we’ll go with you,” Makoto told Yusuke. She picked up Morgana, who had abandoned Akira at the slightest indication of roller coasters, and smiled. “Let’s go!”

***

It was almost more fun to watch Yusuke than to actually look around during It’s a Small World, as the artist was fascinated by all the different cultural styles on the dolls. He didn’t stop smiling once during the entire ride, and Ann started surreptitiously filming with her phone halfway through as Haru, Morgana, and Makoto sang along with the horrifying earworm of a song.

When the ride was over, they split up. Yusuke and Morgana headed for the castle, and Ann, Makoto and Haru made their way to the teacups. As they approached the colorful ride, Haru said quietly, “I’m...glad we’re doing this. Thank you all for coming here with me.”

“We should be thanking you! We try to do fun things as a group, but we’ve never done anything as cool as this before,” Ann chimed. “And you’re one of us now; you should get used to it.”

Haru stopped walking, clasping her hands and looking at the ground. “I’ve never had proper friends before, Ann-chan. People were nice to me because of who my father was. I didn’t feel like I could trust anyone to actually like me for me. But all of you risked yourselves to help me, and now we’re here…” She looked back up and smiled. “Before that night we all stayed at Futaba-chan’s, I had never had a sleepover before. I’d never thought it was something I’d ever get to do. And so I will never stop being grateful that I met all of you, because you treat me like a true friend.”

“We’re happy we met you too, Haru,” Makoto said. “You’ve always got a place with us.” She turned towards the ride. “Now, we have to make a decision: how fast are we spinning this teacup?”

“As fast as we can!” Ann and Haru cried together, and Makoto nodded.

And so they did. Together, they were able to spin the cup so fast that the draping strings of lights around the outside edge of the ride looked like they were moving up and down on their own. By the time they got off, none of the three of them could walk straight.

“Is this what being drunk is like?” Ann giggled, staggering into the railing by the exit.

“Probably…” Haru agreed, sinking down to sit in the middle of the sidewalk. “Tell the world to be still again so I can walk…”

Makoto wobbled, but managed to stay upright. “I am never doing that again…”

In the end, they all ended up on the sidewalk anyway, because they looked at each other and burst into laughter, and it took a long time for them to collect themselves after.

***

When they met up at Splash Mountain after well over an hour of bouncing around the park, everyone was smiling. The girls had met up with Ryuji to do Lightning Mountain, Akira and Futaba had been forced to drag Akechi away from going on the Star Battles movie ride a third time, and Yusuke was pleased to show off a series of sketches he’d done from various locations in the park.

“How did you get that one?” Akira asked, pointing at a drawing showing the main street from above.

“Morgana picked the lock on a staff door, and we encountered an elevator that went up to one of the castle ramparts,” Yusuke explained, as if breaking into the Destinyland Castle of Dreams was something as mundane as going to the grocery store. “We were discovered by an employee, but she was so impressed with the drawing that she agreed to simply escort me back downstairs.”

“Holy shit, dude,” Ryuji said incredulously. “Talk about dumb luck.”

“We _are_ thieves,” Morgana said smugly. “It’s our job to go places we’re not supposed to.”

“How was Galaxy Mountain?” Haru asked Akechi.

The detective was practically beaming with excitement. “Amazing. The lighting effects were incredible, and I appreciate that they were able to construct such a thrilling ride without needing it to go upside-down. But truly, the 3D Star Battles ride was the most fun. It was like actually being in the cockpit of a Z-wing fighter! Technology is truly marvellous. I would have been content just with the illusion of flying through space, but there was an actual dogfight and an escape to lightspeed—” He stopped as he realized they were all staring at him, and looked down sheepishly. “Ah, I…”

Akira grinned, wrapping an arm around him. “Glad you’re having fun, you big nerd.”

“Shut up,” Akechi said, but there was no anger in his tone, and he never stopped smiling.

“Come on, guys, are we going on Splash Mountain before dinner, or what?” Ryuji said. “Let’s pick a dumb pose for the camera and go.”

“Pose?” Haru asked, confused.

“You can’t just go on Splash Mountain and not take a dumb group picture!” Ann insisted. “Come on, we should think of something silly to do.”

They all wracked their brains, trying to think of what they could do with minimal props, and finally Makoto asked, “Do you think the employees could get us something simple for costumes?”

Haru hummed thoughtfully. “I could ask. What do you want?”

“Seven black shirts, and seven pairs of sunglasses,” Makoto said.

“I’ll check.” Haru broke away from the group to find an employee.

While she was out of earshot, Makoto explained the plan to the others, who all agreed enthusiastically. Haru and an employee returned eventually with black T-shirts with a white outline of the castle on them and sunglasses from one of the gift shops, and Makoto got everyone but Haru and Morgana to put them on. “All right, we’re ready to ride now!”

“But what are we doing? What is the pose going to be?” Haru asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Akira said, his own glasses tucked carefully into a pocket and his cool new shades perched in their place. “You just get to ride normally and hold Morgana. Leave the rest to us.”

Because it was nearing sunset, though, they were forced to push their sunglasses up on their heads to actually be able to see the ride. It started off simply enough, floating around a corner and up a chain lift to the upper area, where they bumped along the water-filled tracks high above ground level, the castle visible over the trees in the distance. They entered a dark cave and an indoor forest filled with animatronic characters, which Futaba glared suspiciously at the whole time.

“You don’t like the robots, Futaba-chan?” Haru asked, Morgana safely curled in her lap, and Futaba shook her head.

“They’re one quirk of programming away from being someone’s personal robotic army,” she said. “Or some other weird flaw in the machine. Haven’t you ever played _One Week at Bonnie’s?_ ”

None of them had. Futaba pouted and continued to glare at the animatronics, even as the ride dumped them into an even darker cave filled with giant mushrooms. Eventually, though, Akira and Akechi called from their spots in the front seat, “Here we go! Sunglasses on, everyone!”

Haru looked around at them all in confusion, but before she could ask, they were going over the drop at the end of the ride, and she was distracted with holding Morgana to her chest and trying not to scream. In what seemed like ages but was really only a few seconds, they were at the bottom, and the whole group was grinning and pulling their glasses off again.

“These got wet. Will we be able to return them to the gift shop?” Makoto asked, looking down at her shirt.

Akira shrugged. “I’ll pay for them. And one for Haru, so we can all match,” he said lazily. “Just point me at the shop when we go by it again.”

“You don’t have to do that, Akira-kun, I can…”

“Nope.” Akira turned around in his seat to wink at her. “This is technically your party. I’ve got it.”

Haru looked away, embarrassed, but smiled.

They piled out when the ride was over, heading eagerly for the photo counter. When they saw the picture, no one could help but laugh. Haru was clutching Morgana in the center of the raft, and both of their eyes wide as they went down the drop. The other seven were all looking around in different directions, hands pressed to their ears like they were wearing earpieces, with comically serious expressions.

Haru, forcing the words out through her giggles, said, “You’re all being my bodyguards?”

“It seemed fitting,” Makoto quipped.

They all chipped in to get everyone a print of the picture, and then on the way back to main street, Akira stopped into the gift shop to get Haru a shirt and sunglasses to go with the rest. And so, in their matching shirts and glasses, the Phantom Thieves made their way to the terrace above main street, where an elaborate meal had been laid out.

“All of our parties end up involving lavish food,” Akira said, halfway through a piece of cake of a size he was sure he was going to regret later. “The buffet, hotpot, the sushi restaurant…”

“I missed the sushi restaurant?” Akechi asked, pouting exaggeratedly. “I should have joined sooner. This is all your fault, Akira.” He mock-glared at the thief, who just took another bite of cake, cat-ear headband perched in his hair.

“We still didn’t have the budget for a ton of sushi,” Ann said, sticking a headband with round, brown bear ears on Akechi from behind. “It was definitely good, though.”

“I’m certainly not complaining about all of our parties involving food,” Yusuke commented, and Futaba hit him with a rainbow top hat before sticking it on her own head.

“That’s because you don’t eat unless we remind you!”

***

Goro was fairly certain that this could classify as one of the best days of his life.

Being in a theme park like this, with a group of people his own age, feeling included? He’d never imagined he would have anything like this. It was impossible, wonderful, and he clung to the feeling with everything he had. He’d been to Destinyland. With his boyfriend. It was like he’d walked into the wrong play, stumbling into the part of someone normal and happy.

If he could just get time to stop, get everything outside of this moment to disappear, maybe he could be content.

They were working their way through a tower of macarons and soft-serve ice cream when Okumura glanced at her phone and said, “Oh! My father’s press conference is about to start.”

They all pulled out their phones, trying to connect to the livestream. Thankfully Destinyland’s wifi was good, and it took only a few moments before the view of the stage came up on their screens. Goro tried to ignore the nagging, nervous feeling in the back of his mind. He hadn’t expected that Okumura would even make it to a press conference. He knew too much about the mental shutdowns and who held the reins; Goro had expected him to vanish before this. Now he didn’t know what to expect, but it surely wasn’t going to be good.

Okumura Kunikazu stepped up to the table, surrounded by microphones. He spoke of the conditions of his company, the unfair treatment of the workers… He took responsibility for all of it, and apologized profusely. And then one of the reporters present asked about the victims of the mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdowns, and whether it was all coincidence.

“This is it!” Sakamoto said. “He’s gonna tell who the Black Mask is!”

“Or at least, who’s giving orders to Black Mask,” Niijima said.

Goro stared at the screen as Okumura reached for a glass on the table and took a drink of water, looking nervous as cameras continued to flash almost constantly. When he’d drained half the glass, he set it down again and took a deep breath. “About that… I have a critical piece of information to share today,” he said. “The incidents of mental shutdowns…”

His eyes suddenly went wide, and he lifted a hand to his throat, doubling over as he began to cough. Flecks of blood and foam splattered the table in front of him, and when he looked up to face the camera again, his eyes had rolled back in his head and foam was spilling from his mouth. A second later he collapsed to the table and the video feed cut out.

The Thieves were silent, eyes wide, and then Okumura said very quietly, “F-Father?”

Panic filled the terrace. Goro stumbled back from the table and almost fell, hand over his mouth like that alone could ward off the nauseous feeling that had washed over him all of a sudden. Akira was there in a moment, arm around his shoulders to support him, and Goro gestured helplessly at one of the trash cans near the terrace entrance.

They were barely able to get over there before Goro was emptying his stomach of everything he’d eaten. Akira stayed with him, holding his hair away from his face and rubbing his back, and Goro could distantly hear the other Thieves all talking at once, the sounds blurring together into a white noise of panicked voices.

Okumura had died, of course. He’d known Okumura was going to die, but he hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected that it would be on live television. Hadn’t expected it would look so much like a mental shutdown. With surprising clarity, he could see Shido’s plan. He’d done something, some poison or something to mimic the symptoms. In Okumura’s water glass, to time it for the broadcast… That would make it even more public, instead of a regular mental shutdown, which would have taken effect with less precise timing. 

Goro knew Shido had a web, but how far down did that web extend? The SIU director was one thing, but did Shido have his claws in the coroners too? The ordinary cops? The media? Would this be reported as a shutdown, to place blame on the Thieves even though it had been neither their fault nor his this time?

Why had he thought this would work, why had he thought that Shido still wouldn’t find a way to go after the Thieves? They’d caused him too many headaches; of course he would still want to destroy them, whether they were children or not. And if the rest of the plan was still in the works as well…

_Akira…_

“Akira…” he began, and Akira handed him a loose napkin to wipe his mouth.

“Are you all right?” Akira asked softly. “That was… That was horrible.”

“We did everything the same!” Niijima cried from over by the table.

“That can’t have been because of us!” Takamaki wailed, panic written all over her face.

Futaba was pale as a ghost, and Sakamoto had his arm around her, gesturing furiously with the other. “What the hell, what the _hell?_ ”

Goro managed to drag himself upright, leaning on Akira, just in time for Okumura to shove her phone into her purse and get up from the table. “I have to go,” she said, her voice pinched with the effort of keeping it level. “I’m sorry, please feel free to stay. I…” She trailed off, then turned and left, almost at a run, oblivious to the others calling after her.

No one moved once she was out of sight, and finally Kitagawa said, “I...don't believe Haru is the Black Mask.”

Goro didn’t miss how several people’s eyes flickered back to him. Of course Haru wouldn't kill her own father. He knew that left him as the sole suspicious metaverse user, no matter how much a part of the group he had felt today, and no matter that he hadn't been responsible for this one. He knew some of them still didn’t believe his story of when he’d obtained his persona. But right now, he couldn’t do anything about it, just letting Akira hold him up as he tried to calm his racing heart.

His phone rang from where he had dropped it on the table, and he started to go get it, but was forced to stop as his stomach lurched again. Seeing him struggling, Takamaki picked it up and answered it. “Akechi-kun’s phone.”

For a split second Goro panicked, afraid it was Shido, but then he realized it was one of the custom ringtones he had set, just in time for Takamaki to continue, “I'm sorry, my name is Takamaki Ann. Yeah, Akechi-kun’s here. We saw the press conference and he got sick… Mmhm. Yeah. I’ll let him know. We’re in Maihama, so it might be a bit. Yeah. Thanks.” She hung up, turning to face him. “Sorry for just grabbing it… Prosecutor Niijima-san wants you to come to the precinct, as soon as you’re feeling up to it.”

Goro nodded. “I figured she would call… Er, thank you...Ann. For getting it. Not getting an answer would have just worried her.”

Ann beamed. “No problem. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Fortunately Akira kept me from making a mess of myself.” Tentatively, he tried standing on his own, and accepted the phone back from Ann. “I should go, then, as well. There will be a lot to do if this was truly a mental shutdown.”

Akira squeezed his hand and reluctantly let him go. “Find us some good clues, Detective Prince,” he said quietly. “We’ll make sure the others are okay.”

“Good. Futaba-chan looks like she’s in bad shape.” Goro spared one more glance at the rest of the Thieves, then smiled at Akira. “I’ll do my best.”

The walk back to the Maihama station was the longest of his life. He should have known that his day was going too well. There had been too many good things; of course something had to happen to cancel them out. And now all he could do was go put on the proper show for Sae, until he could talk to Shido and see if the rest of the plan they had made was still set to go forward.

If it was, well…

He wasn’t getting away with his one good thing for very long at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I want a Happy Chapter,” I told the chat, lying through my teeth in my best Akechi impression. :3
> 
> Reality always has its ways of correcting itself. Some things are just meant to happen, no matter how you work to avoid them. But it’s too late. The gears are already out of place, the story has been knocked off-track, and no amount of correction is enough to salvage the original now. I’m probably cheating a little; I tried to research poisons to figure out a specific one, but the wikipedia articles are very long and medical and I got bored. So it’s _technically_ magic plot poison, but that's not any worse a sin than "oh, the mental shutdown kicked in at _exactly the right time_ ~" XD
> 
> (There are no good synonyms for the word ‘splash’. X’’’D)
> 
> If it didn’t take me a gazillion years to finish a drawing, there are a ton of things I’d want to try to draw in this chapter.
> 
> Next chapter: All eyes are on Okumura Foods as the Phantom Thieves become public enemy number one...including the eyes of the Shadow Operatives.


	27. October 13th, 2016

Trying to be on a video call with the youngest Wild Cards was like herding cats, in Mitsuru’s opinion. Keeping them on-topic was almost impossible, especially when Yu wanted to complain about college work. And the twins were no help, because Minato just listened to Yu with a smile, and Hamuko was all-too-willing to egg him on, chiming in with observations of her own from the online classes she was taking.

“Everyone, _please_ ,” Mitsuru said. She wasn’t pleading with them because Kirijo Mitsuru didn’t plead for anything, but it was close. “Can we talk about what happened with the Okumura incident now?”

“Sorry, sorry, these papers have been driving me mad,” Yu sighed. “Anyway, yeah… Do we really think the Phantom Thieves killed that guy?”

“ _No_ , of course not!” Hamuko said vehemently. “They haven’t killed anybody else! Why would they start now?”

“I’ll admit, it doesn’t seem like their modus operandi,” Mitsuru sighed. “But what else can we assume? There was a calling card sent, and perhaps they just didn’t announce their previous crimes. Have there _been_ any other shutdowns since the original calling card in April, or is it just those rampage accidents?”

Minato frowned. “To separate the incidents, we’d have to accept that there’s two groups of people that are using Isshiki Wakaba’s research to access meta-space. I know there’s a lot of potential persona-users, but opposing factions?” Opposing factions that _both_ had meta-space access when he didn’t? Upsetting, to say the least.

“Strega,” Hamuko pointed out.

“...damn it.” Minato shook his head.

Yu had been chewing on the eraser of his pencil, and finally said solemnly, “It’s...scary, to see something like that. To know what it looks like when a person’s shadow dies. To think how close we could have been to making a mistake like that.”

“Yu…” Hamuko began.

“It wasn’t like any of us knew what we were doing,” Yu said. “I could have killed Yosuke right at the start, and I never would have known what I’d done wrong. We could have killed any of them by accident, even Adachi!”

“You were lucky,” Mitsuru said bluntly, but not unkindly. “At least we had seen something like this before. The cases of Apathy Syndrome in Iwatodai were the result of people’s shadows being taken by the Arcana Shadows. They didn’t die because they were simply separated, and the Lost still had the potential to recover. But this…? This is horrible.”

Everyone was quiet at that, lost in their own thoughts for a moment, and then Minato asked, “Has anyone tried to use the Velvet door we found in Shibuya?”

“No one yet,” Mitsuru said. After determining that it was impractical to have someone watching the door constantly, they’d put up a tiny hidden camera in the corner at the end of the alley, pointed towards the door. “No one’s even looked at it, and that airsoft shop gets quite a few customers.”

“I can’t picture a Wild Card that wouldn’t use the Velvet Room,” Yu said. “Why wouldn’t they want the help?”

There were muffled footsteps from Minato’s side of the call, and then he let out an ‘oof’ as Elizabeth landed on him from behind, arms around his shoulders so she could lean over him to see the screen. “Perhaps they simply don’t use the access in the real world,” she suggested. “There were always two doors accessible for the three of you, after all. Our master wishes things to be as convenient as possible.”

“But we don’t know if they have somewhere like Tartarus or the TV hub,” Yu said. “Can they be affecting all of those people from a central location? The way Mitsuru-san explained the research, it was a bunch of individual areas.”

Elizabeth’s eyes glittered, and she leaned closer to the screen, causing Minato to wobble under her weight on his back. “It has to be the subway! Mementos! Our master called it the source of the distortion. So if there is another door, it would likely be located there.”

Minato braced himself on the desk and shoved Elizabeth back upright. “We can keep that in mind for when Nanjo-san’s project is done. Has he mentioned anything new?”

“The prototype caught fire yesterday when they tried to test it,” Mitsuru said, and Minato immediately looked crestfallen. “Don’t look so upset; he’s fairly certain they know what went wrong.”

There was the sound of a door closing on Yu’s side of the call, and Yosuke’s face appeared poking in from one side of the screen. “What’s Nanjo-san even working on? How’s it gonna help with the room being blocked by an overpowered brat?”

Hamuko winked. “The Velvet Room isn’t the only way to access meta-space. Our senpais used a man-made method.”

Yosuke rolled his eyes. “I still say we just punt her out of the way. You said she’s not even half as tall as Yu.”

“You try it, then,” Minato said serenely. “Just remember I’m a _very_ long train ride away when she inevitably breaks your face.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Mitsuru attempted. “The question here is still whether or not the Phantom Thieves are dangerous.” She held up a hand as Hamuko opened her mouth. “I know your thoughts, thank you. Everyone else?”

Minato and Elizabeth shared a look. “I don’t think so,” the Universe said. “I think there’s something going on that we can’t see.”

“I agree with Minato. They wouldn’t switch up and start killing people for no reason,” Yu said.

Ryoji, dressed like he’d just returned from outside, pushed into the frame of Minato’s video and waved, and Mitsuru pressed a hand to her forehead. “Is there anything else we could do to find these people, then? Could the three of you track them down, if you’re sensitive to other Wild Cards?”

“I can’t just sit in the middle of Tokyo and hope that my innate Universe-ness attracts the Thieves. You’re asking us to find literally one in a million. More than a million,” Minato said, thinking hard. “If I could use my shadow, though, it might be faster to try to check the subway than searching the city for a group of people we know nothing about.” He sighed. “This is such a pain.”

“I could help, too,” Ryoji said. “Four eyes are better than two.”

“Not a good idea,” Minato countered.

“Why not?”

“Because if you try to revert Thanatos to your shadow, there’s a high probability that it turns into the Avatar and tries to kill us all, that’s why.” Minato pushed his fiancé out of the frame. “I’ll see what I can do, Mitsuru-senpai. I might not be able to get my shadow there anyway.”

“And we’ll keep watching the camera,” Hamuko said. “He can’t go forever without using that door. There’s no way.”

Mitsuru nodded. “Keep thinking of other ideas, as well. It can’t hurt to have a backup plan in case Kei’s group sets anything else on fire. Fuuka’s working on cracking the ‘phan-site’ to see who posted that poll, and I have a meeting to attend now that I hope can get us some more information as well.”

“Good luck, Mitsuru-san,” Yu said, and Mitsuru reached to disconnect the call. Just before it cut to black, the last thing she heard was Ryoji’s voice asking, “Okay, but what would it look like if we tried to revert _Messiah_ to a sha--”

She pressed a hand to her face, but it didn’t hide her fond smile. They were a scatterbrained bunch, but she wouldn’t change them for the world.

***

She’d chosen a restaurant that was known for having privacy, well-aware of what she was asking of her dinner guest. And indeed, when Okumura Haru walked around the corner, escorted by one of the hostesses, Mitsuru thought she looked at least a bit grateful for the secluded table.

“I’m sorry that I’m late, Kirijo-san,” she said quietly as she sat down. “We did everything in our power to avoid the press. You picked a good location for that.”

“Please don’t apologize, Okumura-chan. I’m pleased that you accepted my invitation at all. I know that you must be having a rough time, and you have my condolences,” Mitsuru replied.

They placed their drink orders, and Haru smiled, just a tiny bit. “Well, when someone as well-known in the business world as Kirijo Mitsuru invites you out, it’s very hard to say no regardless of the situation. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m quite prepared to talk business, if that’s what you were hoping for. I haven’t even begun to look through the company files since my father… my father’s passing.”

Mitsuru shook her head, folding her hands atop the table and meeting Haru’s eyes. “I will be frank, Okumura-chan. I didn’t invite you here to talk business. Okumura Foods is in too much of a state of flux for any kind of fair discussion, and I hope no one else is trying to get you to talk about business either.” She watched Haru’s expression fill with confusion, and continued, “I asked you here because I understand what you are going through. I lost my father around your age as well, and had to step up to run the Kirijo Group. Without support from a friend of the family, I’m not sure I could have kept it stable. So I want to offer my support, while you get things in order.”

Haru’s eyes widened. “You...lost your father as well?”

“Yes, there was an...incident, with a former employee,” Mitsuru said. She paused for a moment, pushing back the memory of red blood, looking black under green light, splattered across the floor of Tartarus. “It came as a shock to everyone involved, and I was far from prepared to be in charge. But it can be done.”

“I… Thank you, Kirijo-san. That’s incredibly generous of you,” Haru said softly. “Truthfully, my thoughts about all of this are very confused. I loved my father and I am sad that he is dead, but… He was not a good person, these last few years, if I am being honest. So my feelings are very mixed.”

“It’s understandable,” Mitsuru said. “My own father made some very questionable decisions during his time as head of the Kirijo group. But I loved him all the same.”

They spent the time until their food arrived sharing happy stories of their time with their fathers. Mitsuru was happy to see that Haru looked a little more animated than she had when she’d arrived. Grief was different for everyone, but Mitsuru could tell that there was a layer of steel in this girl, and that she wouldn’t bend under pressure so easily.

“I have to ask, Okumura-chan,” she said, after they’d been eating in companionable quiet for a while. “The way you described your father’s actions when you were younger… Were you hoping that he would have a change of heart? I heard about the calling card and saw all of the comments online.”

Haru bit her lip. “It may be selfish, but...I was. If what had made him so ruthless could be fixed, and he could go back to how he was…” She sighed. “It’s a shame that the Phantom Thieves couldn’t help him before this happened.”

“You don’t believe the Thieves are responsible for his death?” Mitsuru asked.

Haru’s gaze flicked up to meet and hold hers, that steel she’d sensed before fully visible now. “I do not. From what I know of the Phantom Thieves, they only want to help people. My father’s death was caused by something or someone else, I’m certain of it. And when I find out who...”

Mitsuru was taken aback, but in a good way. Okumura Haru was certainly going to be capable of taking care of herself. “Do you think the Thieves only targeted your father because of that ‘phan-site’, or did you contact them personally?”

“I’ve never spoken to them, Kirijo-san. I wish that I could, because I would like to thank them for at least trying to help. No one else ever has,” Haru said, soft but firm. She took a sip of her drink, studying Mitsuru’s expression, and then asked, “...do you think _I_ have some sort of information about the Phantom Thieves? Is that why you’re asking?”

“It’s just curiosity,” Mitsuru assured her. “The opinion of them has changed so sharply in just a few days. People are calling them murderers, and even calling for their heads. I was just wondering if you felt the same.”

Haru shook her head. “I don’t. I will continue to believe in them, and I’m sure there are others like me out there as well.”

“There are. I have a friend who won’t hear a bad word against them. She’s a huge fan,” Mitsuru chuckled, and Haru seemed to relax again.

“Well, tell your friend that she isn’t alone.”

***

When dinner was over, they walked back to the station together, and Mitsuru fished a small notebook from her bag and scribbled down her phone number before passing it to Haru. “That’s my personal number. Please, call if you need anything. I was serious about offering my support.”

Haru smiled gratefully. “Thank you again, Kirijo-san. I really appreciate it. Perhaps next time we meet like this, I can show you my favorite cafe. A dear friend of mine works as a barista there, and it’s very quiet.”

“That sounds nice.” Mitsuru shook her hand. “It was good to meet you, Okumura-chan. I wish you well.”

“Thank you. Have a good night.”

Once Haru had walked away, Mitsuru’s smile faded a bit. Something was odd. It was just a gut feeling, but Mitsuru had learned to trust those over the years. Okumura Haru was so certain that the Phantom Thieves hadn’t murdered her father that it was borderline strange. It was a confidence that didn’t come purely from belief, like Hamuko’s, but from fact. She _knew_ they weren’t responsible, which meant that she knew more than she was saying.

It was a fragile lead, but it was more than they’d had before. Maybe Haru could lead them to the Phantom Thieves, and the answers they needed. At this point, it was worth a shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that Akira doesn’t use the Shibuya door because he doesn’t appreciate being kicked in the kidneys. Which sort of ruins their whole plan to spy on the door. They’re getting a little closer, though. Can they pull the right thread in time? ;)
> 
> Mitsuru and Haru really do have a lot in common, and I think they’d get along really well after everything is over and Mitsuru’s not fishing for information anymore. And once they both know for sure that each other’s dads were victims of someone trying to use meta-space for something nefarious.
> 
> Next chapter: Nothing bad happens. I’m being serious this time. It’s just a nice chapter, there’s no tragic turn right at the end or anything, we’re just going on a date and having a good time. I swear.


	28. October 15th, 2016

Saturday afternoon after school, Akira stepped into Leblanc and spotted Akechi hunched over the counter, staring down sullenly into a cup of coffee. His eyes widened; he hadn’t seen the detective since that night at Destinyland. They’d spoken over text, chatting about work and school and the most recent public response to the Phantom Thieves, exchanging goodnights and wishes for good days, for success in detective work and success on Mementos missions, respectively. But now Akechi was here, in person, and Akira eagerly set his bag down to let Morgana out and crossed to touch him lightly on the shoulder. “Goro?”

Akechi jumped, jolted from his thoughts, but then visibly relaxed when he saw Akira. “Oh, hello… Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you okay?” Morgana asked, hopping onto the stool beside him. “You looked really out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Akechi said, sparing Morgana a glance, but he clearly wasn’t. Now that Akira got a better look, he seemed exhausted. There were bags under his eyes, and he looked pale. “Things have just been very busy this week.”

Sojiro looked over from where he was cleaning one of the siphons. “You’re talking to the cat. You’re not fine. I told you, you need to get more sleep.”

Akechi leaned enough to rest his head against Akira’s chest. “I can’t stop seeing Okumura’s face,” he said quietly. “It was...awful.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen worse as a detective,” Akira began, but Akechi shook his head.

“I am a detective, yes, but I have never actually watched someone die before,” he murmured.

Akira waited until Sojiro’s back was turned, then dipped to press a kiss to Akechi’s temple. “Okay, yeah, we’re going to go do something relaxing. I know exactly the thing.” He ignored Morgana, whose eyes had gone wide at the affectionate gesture, and pulled out his phone.

“Hm?” Akechi glanced up at him, puzzled, and Akira smiled.

“Trust me. It’ll be fun,” he said. “Morgana, are you coming?”

Morgana looked between the two of them suspiciously. “I think I’ll stay here. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your date.” There was a look in his eyes that promised suffering if Akira didn’t explain himself later, and Akira put on his best charming smile and hoped his cat didn’t claw his eyes out in his sleep.

He put his phone back in his pocket and smiled at Akechi. “Let me go change, and then come with me?”

Akechi tentatively returned the smile and said, echoing Akira from that day at the park, “Wherever you want.”

Akira raced upstairs to throw on more casual clothes, and then hurried back to grab Akechi by the hand, practically dragging him out of the cafe and promising Sojiro they’d pay for the coffee later. The train ride to Ikebukuro was peaceful, but when they left the station, they were almost immediately set upon by a cluster of giggling girls.

“Akechi-kun, Akechi-kun, will you take a picture with us?”

Akira found himself standing to one side as Akechi chatted with them, smiling for selfies and even signing the cover of one girl’s notebook, but he was pleased to realize that he could tell the difference between how he smiled for these girls and how he smiled for Akira. When Akechi finally managed to escape, mumbling apologies, Akira just shook his head. “It’s okay. I don’t know how you do it, though, if that happens every time you try to go out. I’d go nuts trying to deal with fans like that all the time.”

Akechi laughed softly. “All the world’s a stage, Akira. You just have to know what part to play. Give them a few minutes of the ‘Detective Prince’, and they’re content.”

“As long as I get to keep the real Goro for myself, _I’m_ content,” Akira said, nudging him, and Akechi hesitated, then nudged back.

“Of course.”

***

Goro’s eyes widened as he realized where they were going. The planetarium was well-known for their spectacular shows, projected onto a domed screen that provided the illusion of really being in space. He’d wanted to go for ages, but was either missing time, money, or motivation.

Kitagawa and Futaba were waiting in the lobby, and Akira passed Kitagawa a handful of yen in exchange for two tickets. “Thanks for getting these; we got a little held up on the way.”

“It was no trouble,” Kitagawa said. “I’m quite looking forward to this. It’s supposed to be quite spectacular.”

Akira glanced at Goro. “We’ve been meaning to come here for a while, and what better excuse than winding down after a rough week?” he said. “I hope this is okay.”

“This is...wonderful,” Goro said, very quietly. They could have done anything today, but Akira had taken the time to bring him here, invite friends along, all in an effort to cheer him up. It was close to overwhelming.

Futaba bounced on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands. “Come on, let’s go find our seats! It’s fifteen minutes ‘til the show starts!”

They made their way up to the entrance to the auditorium, quickly locating their seats in the middle of a section, about halfway up. Kitagawa had chosen well; they’d have a perfect view of everything. Futaba flopped down between Goro and Kitagawa, and Akira took the seat on Goro’s other side, pushing up the armrest and leaning against him as soon as the lights went down.

Goro glanced at Futaba and Kitagawa, and after determining that they weren’t paying attention, slipped his arm around Akira’s shoulders. Akira _snuggled_ against him, a dopey smile on his face, and he couldn’t help but smile as well. This was...nice.

The show opened with a single massive comet arcing across a pitch-black sky, and the entire auditorium let out an audible gasp. Goro’s eyes widened with wonder as the entire sky lit up with a glittering array of stars, and he could hear Futaba muffle a squeal of excitement beside him.

As the show went on, Akira slumped down in his seat, watching the sky with attentive eyes even though his descent meant that Goro’s arm was now wrapped around his head like a scarf instead of around his shoulders where it had started. Goro didn’t mind, but something was itching at his wrist, and it was distracting. It was probably just Akira’s hair, and he shifted a little to try to get it to stop. But it persisted, and he dragged his brain away from the sky to try to figure out what was going on.

It took another moment before he realized that the ticklish feeling wasn’t the ends of Akira’s hair, like he’d thought, but instead Akira’s lips. The other boy was mouthing gently at the thin skin on the inside of his wrist, not quite a kiss but not innocent either. Goro glanced down at him, unable to make out his eyes past the galaxies reflected in his glasses, and made a questioning noise.

He felt Akira’s lips curve upwards, and then the tip of Akira’s tongue traced the web of veins just visible beneath his skin. Goro shivered, and Akira tilted his head, pressing a kiss to the heart of his palm before settling and finally being still again.

_What a piece of shit._ He couldn’t drag Akira up and make out with him with his friends sitting right there, so Goro settled for dropping his arm out of range of Akira’s mouth, tugging him closer against him, and pinching his side. Akira jolted, but managed not to yelp, and his body shook with silent laughter as he continued watching the show.

***

They ducked into the gift shop when the show was over because Futaba wanted to see if they had anything that would hang from her ceiling. She was doing remarkably well in the crowd, but when Akira excused himself to go find a restroom, she ended up latched onto Kitagawa’s arm as he browsed a shelf of self-stick glow-in-the-dark stars.

“You should get some of these,” he said, holding up a package in front of Goro’s face, and the detective blinked.

“Hm?”

“I know that they could perhaps be considered a bit juvenile, but you enjoyed the show so much, it seems like the sort of thing you would like.” 

Kitagawa was smiling, and Futaba was watching him too. Goro held up his hands helplessly, trying to smile back. “Unfortunately, I’m not really home enough to worry about decorating. Maybe for Akira instead, to brighten up that drab attic of his?”

“Ooh, yeah, he could put them on the ceiling beams and stuff!” Futaba exclaimed. “I don’t know if there’s enough in one package, though.”

“We could all chip in and get three or four,” Goro suggested. “And then we could...all put them up together?” _What was he doing?_ “It could be...fun.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Robin Hood swelled with pride, and Goro resisted the urge to take it all back. What was he doing, what was any of this doing, he was just making things _worse and there was no reason to--_

_Hush, princeling. You are fine,_ Robin insisted.

“That sounds lovely,” Kitagawa said. He reached into his pocket for his wallet. “Four packages should give us reasonable coverage of the attic. Good idea, Akechi.”

Futaba handed over her share of money and wandered off to look at a comet mobile a little ways down the aisle, and Goro looked at the floor sheepishly. “It’s nothing, really…”

“It is,” Kitagawa said firmly. “I know that joining our group must have been uncomfortable for you, but you’ve made an effort to be one of us. And you make our leader happy. That is far from ‘nothing’.”

Goro continued looking at the floor. “I suppose that’s true,” he murmured. He’d never considered that before, that he could make someone else happy on anything other than a superficial level. Kit-- _Yusuke_ ’s bluntness was actually refreshing, in this instance.

By the time Akira returned, muttering about long lines and pushy adults, they’d made their purchases and were waiting near the gift shop entrance. Akira leaned over, trying to see into Yusuke’s bag, but Goro caught him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back. “Nosy.”

“I just wanna see. You guys did all the shopping without me,” Akira complained, tugging against the hold on his shirt like a squirming kitten.

“Wait until we get back to Leblanc, and then we can show you,” Futaba said with a grin, and Akira pouted.

“Fiiiine.”

***

Stickers shouldn’t have been so overwhelming, but when Yusuke handed him the packages, saying they were a present from all of them, Akira felt himself choking up a little. Every time he stopped thinking about how much he loved his friends, there they were to remind him why he was so much happier in Tokyo than he’d ever been at home.

Yusuke and Akechi got into a debate about whether to just stick the stars artistically or attempt an accurate sky-map, and finally compromised by agreeing on proper constellations, but placed wherever they seemed to fit. Akira boosted Futaba up to sit on his shoulders to stick several up, while Akechi stood on the desk chair, letting Yusuke hand the stars up one at a time. Morgana remained on the bed, watching attentively and offering up smug warnings to not fall off the chair, much to Akechi’s chagrin.

They stopped working briefly to eat curry for dinner, and then it was back to work making sure the whole ceiling was covered. And when every last star had been placed and Akira clicked the lights off, none of them could contain a noise of amazement.

“We picked the _best_ present,” Futaba said, and Akira nodded in agreement.

“You really did,” he said quietly. “Thank you, all of you. They’re perfect.”

Eventually, Yusuke volunteered to walk Futaba home, and Morgana hopped off the bed to jump up into her arms. Akira was about to ask what he was doing, but the cat fixed him with a pointed stare over Futaba’s shoulder, and so he just bid them all goodnight with a smile and a wave, mildly grateful that he seemed to be getting a reprieve for one more night.

That left Akechi, who was still staring up at the ceiling with wonder, and Akira walked over to flop down on the bed beside him. “Yusuke said the stars were your idea.”

Akechi flustered at the comment. “He picked them out first and suggested them for my apartment. I merely suggested that they would do better here.”

“Your apartment’s too fancy for stick-stars?” Akira teased, and Akechi shook his head.

“My apartment is too _bare_ for stick-stars. I’m rarely there other than to sleep or work on homework. It’s a roof over my head, not a home. Not like this dust pit that you call home.”

“Careful, you’ll offend the dust bunnies. They’re vicious. Almost got Morgana’s tail once.” Akira leaned over to nuzzle in and press a kiss to his jaw.

Akechi tilted his head to give him room, making a disgruntled noise. “I should shove you off the bed as a sacrifice to them, after that stunt at the planetarium.”

“You liked it,” Akira said smugly, planting a kiss under his ear.

“I’d have liked it better if your friends weren’t sitting less than a foot away, so I could have kissed you stupid afterwards,” Akechi countered. 

“You could kiss me stupid _now_ ,” Akira pointed out, inching even closer.

“I don’t know if I feel like it now.”

Akira had a thousand playful retorts all on the tip of his tongue, but he knew that was exactly what Akechi was expecting. Instead, he deviated, and Akechi was caught off-guard when Akira _lunged_ and smushed him into the futon, pressing their lips together.

Akechi’s eyes were wide with shock, but slipped closed after only a moment as he returned the kiss, arms curling around Akira to keep him close. Akira coaxed his mouth open with a gentle hand on his jaw, and they both sank into the deeper kiss, content. It was hard to worry about Morgana or Okumura or anything when it was just them, safe and alone in the attic.

Eventually, Akira broke away, propping himself on one elbow and just looking down at the detective fondly. Akechi received touch like someone starving for it. He leaned into Akira’s hands on his face, in his hair, curled around the back of his neck, and gave as good as he got. Which suited Akira just fine, because having those hands, surprisingly elegant-looking without gloves, running through his hair made him content enough to melt into a puddle right there on his futon.

“What’s wrong?” Akechi asked softly, his arms loosely looped over Akira’s waist.

Akira smiled. “The stars are reflected in your eyes.”

Akechi flushed pink, rolling to the side to bury his face in Akira’s chest. “You’re an embarrassment.”

“Yeah, but I’m your embarrassment. That has to count for something.”

Akechi grumbled into his shirt, then reached up and grabbed his hair to drag him into another kiss. Akira went willingly, smiling the whole time. They traded kisses and soft touches until the last light had faded from the window and all that was left was the glow of the star stickers, eventually ending up curled together beneath Akira’s blanket.

“Are you staying the night, then?” Akira asked, nuzzling the top of Akechi’s head where the detective was using his shoulder as a pillow.

Akechi hummed noncommittally, burrowing closer. “It’s cold in your disgusting attic. If I leave I’m taking this blanket so I don’t freeze on my way downstairs.”

Akira pouted. “My only blanket?”

“The rest of the trash is fine without blankets.” From anyone else it would be a harsh thing to say, but Akira could hear the smile in his voice, and just hugged Akechi closer, relishing the unpolished reality that was his sarcastic boyfriend. That wasn’t something that Akechi’s fans or coworkers got. That sort of Akechi was only for him.

“You have to get up at least for a minute so I can find you pajamas. You’re not sleeping in that button-down. If you want, you can borrow some of my stuff tomorrow, too, since it’s Sunday, and I’ll wash your stuff next time I do laundry,” he said.

Akechi laughed. “My, my. Leaving a set of clothes at your home? That might be too much of a commitment,” he teased. But then he said fondly, “That would be kind of you, Akira, thank you.”

***

It was just before midnight when Akira’s phone buzzed, and he blinked blearily, trying to grab for it without disturbing the sleeping boy draped half-overtop of him. Wincing and clicking the screen brightness down so he could actually read it, he found a text from Futaba and opened it up, confused.

> _[Futaba - 11:49pm] Mona told us about you and Akechi, Akira~_

Akira felt abruptly more awake, his heart in his throat. He glanced at Akechi, breathing peacefully against his chest, and tapped out a reply one-handed.

> _[Akira - 11:51pm] He did?_
> 
> _[Futaba - 11:51pm] Yep. And by us I mean everybody. Not everybody thinks it’s the best idea, but we trust you._
> 
> _[Akira - 11:52pm] ...how mad is Makoto?_
> 
> _[Futaba - 11:52pm] Pretty okay. Annoyed you didn’t check with us first, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_
> 
> _[Futaba - 11:52pm] Ann’s the skeptical one, actually. And Ryuji, but you know he doesn’t like Akechi anyway._
> 
> _[Akira - 11:53pm] Would it help at all if I said I know what I’m doing?_
> 
> _[Futaba - 11:54pm] I’m sure you do. And we’ve all agreed to leave you alone. Don’t wanna mess anything up at this critical point in your questline. So don’t worry about Makoto._
> 
> _[Akira - 11:54pm] Thanks, Futaba. You’re the best._
> 
> _[Futaba - 11:54pm] Of course I am. Night, ‘Kira. \\(^_^)/_
> 
> _[Akira - 11:55pm] Night, sis. \\(^_~)/_

Akira put his phone back on the windowsill and wrapped his arm back around Akechi. That had gone better than he was expecting. It was a miracle that Makoto wasn’t mad at him, and he didn’t quite trust that Futaba wasn’t misinterpreting something, but for now, everything seemed to be going well. All they had to do now was focus on finding the Black Mask and clearing their names, and everything would be perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **RANK UP**  
>  **CONFIDANTE AKIRA KURUSU/GORO AKECHI**  
>  **FOOL/JUSTICE RANK 7**  
> 
> 
> Every comment but like, two that I got last chapter contained some version of “I don’t believe you”. What have I done to deserve such distrust? I am a _paragon_ of honesty. :3
> 
> The planetarium is my favorite “date” spot, and the stars are my favorite attic decoration, plus this is the last real break before things start really going to hell. Since, you know, the Casino’s looming on the horizon. So, a nice chapter. Where nothing bad happened. Just like I said.
> 
> Next chapter: Should I even bother? Are any of you going to believe me? XD Well, fine. Next chapter, canon attempts to reassert itself, but hits the wrong side, as _Akechi_ makes the Phantom Thieves’ mistake instead. And Akira might not be paying attention, but someone else is...


	29. October 21st, 2016

Goro had almost gotten used to how unreal his life felt at times.

Some of that was on purpose, of course. The metaverse wasn’t reality; remembering that was the only thing that kept him sane, some days. Akira barely felt like reality, sometimes, either. Being around someone so unabashedly affectionate was still boggling. But truly, the greatest feelings of disassociation came when he was sitting in the middle of school, because of how painfully ordinary everything was.

He was good at math, and that was his only saving grace, because when the teacher droning in the background faded to little more than white noise, Goro wasn’t absorbing anything from the lesson at all. He was busy contemplating how utterly surreal his life was, that he could sit through a trigonometry lesson and then leave school to be his father’s supernatural hitman. At times it felt like he was two people living in one body: the Detective Prince and the Black Mask, which he supposed was fitting, considering his two personas.

The voice in the cube in his dreams had been quiet lately. It had spoken to him briefly to encourage him on his mission, and to remind him to be careful around the Trickster, but other than that it had left him alone, apparently content to observe him. Goro could only assume that meant he was still moving in the right direction, even if it didn’t always feel like it.

Things with Akira were...good, despite the warnings. He’d never had something as simple as someone to wish him goodnight before, and it was amazing how just that tiny gesture could make him feel appreciated. Wanted. Akira wasn’t a fan or an employer or anyone who expected anything of him, at least on the surface. The thief was probably playing him, to keep him on their side, but it was fine. Goro was going to break things off before it could become a problem. But for now, it was easiest to avoid thinking about how it would have to end eventually.

When school was over, he made his way to Shibuya station, looking up the list of targets on his phone. There were two, today, and both names were a hit in the deeper levels of Mementos. This was going to take ages with the wider gaps between safe rooms, but what could he do? After his failure to eliminate Okumura in time, he couldn’t risk any more mistakes. At least Akira hadn’t removed him from the Phantom Thieves’ group chat, so he could know when they were in Mementos and avoid them.

Before he could activate the nav, though, his phone rang, and he went cold when he saw the number. Hurrying down an out-of-the-way hall, he tentatively answered it.

“Yes, Shido-san?”

_“I’ve told you to stop addressing me by name,”_ Shido growled. _“The next stage of the plan is ready, and I expect you to play your part.”_

“You’ve chosen a Palace, then, sir?”

_“Yes. The director of the SIU is appointing Niijima Sae as head of the Phantom Thieves investigation. The extra pressure will fully spawn her Palace, and it will be the perfect location to bait the Thieves into a trap.”_

Goro bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He regretted ever telling Shido that Sae was showing signs of developing a Palace. She’d been so stressed lately, under so much pressure from her superiors, and he’d just mentioned it offhandedly. But of course Shido would find a way to use someone he liked against him. “Are you sure they’ll target someone like that?”

_“They will if you do your job and convince them to. This is why you were meant to infiltrate them in the first place,”_ Shido said. _“The police have already begun investigating the school where they supposedly attend, and the director will encourage Niijima to issue a formal arrest warrant. They’ll have to listen to you and target her if they want to save their own skins.”_

Akechi swallowed hard. He’d known this was coming, but everything seemed to be happening all at once. “And the... rest of the plan, sir?”

_“The leader will be taken into custody, and choose to end his life after being caught for his crimes.”_ There was an edge of cruel amusement to Shido’s voice. _“A fitting end to such a thorn in my side. And I want you to do it, Akechi.”_

“I… Me?” His vision blurred. The posters on the station wall started to blend together and he swayed on his feet as he processed exactly what Shido was asking of him.

_“It has to be someone who wouldn’t be out of place in the precinct, and who on the force would suspect their perfect, polished Detective Prince? And I certainly wouldn’t trust this to some low-level guard, loyal or not. Other than your one mistake, you are the most competent operative I have. I can trust you with this, right?”_

Warmth at the praise and the level of trust placed in him mixed with the chill of what he would have to do and left him dizzy, rooted to the spot. He heard himself say, clearly and void of emotion, “Of course. It will be no problem, sir.”

_“Good. Until the arrest warrant is issued, focus on your other work.”_

“Yes, sir. I’m on my way to deal with today’s targets right now.”

Shido hung up without any sort of farewell, and Goro took a deep, shuddering breath. He could… He could do this. He’d known that he couldn’t keep Akira in the end, so this was for the best. The cleanest, most permanent break there was. One step closer to Shido’s downfall, ending things before Akira discovered what he was and left him… It was the best possible outcome. Of course it was.

He lifted his phone with shaking fingers and selected Aiyatsbus’s rest stop, activating the nav and letting himself fade into the metaverse. Whether it was for the best or not, he just needed a minute. He needed familiar blue, the last safe place he had, and he needed to scream and scream and _scream_ until he could rip out these feelings by the roots and be Black Mask through and through.

He didn’t feel the eyes on him, too desperate for solitude, and he let Aiyatsbus wrap itself around him in a blue wail of shadows and cognition. He couldn’t afford another mistake now.

***

“Why am I going with you to Akihabara again?” Makoto said, trailing a step behind Futaba as she walked through Shibuya station.

The little hacker grinned over her shoulder. “Because Akira’s going to the gym with Ann and Haru, Ryuji’s on a run, Inari’s busy with some sort of painting for school, and Akechi has work. But I took the train all the way here by myself and that means I deserve someone to go to Akihabara with me to get the new anniversary box-set release of Phoenix Ranger Featherman R. It’s got the fancy steel case and everything!”

Makoto hitched her bag up her shoulder and shrugged. “I...suppose? As long as it doesn’t take too long. I have homework to do.”

“Eh, it should be okay. I pre-ordered it, so I just have to pick it up. The case is really cool, it’s got these stylized symbols of all the birds in the metallic colors--” Futaba turned to look at Makoto, but stopped mid-turn as they passed a cross-hallway. “Is that Akechi? Maybe he’s off work; I bet he’d wanna see the box set too!” She started down the hallway, but Makoto grabbed her and pulled her back around the corner.

“Wait, Futaba. He’s on the phone.” Makoto glanced around the corner, ignoring Futaba tugging at the grip on her wrist.

_“Of course. It will be no problem, sir.”_

“Who’s he talking to? His boss?” Futaba said, finally breaking away as Makoto leaned further, trying to see. “Jeeze, Makoto, ‘Kira wasn’t kidding that you have a thing for spying on people.”

_“Yes, sir. I’m on my way to deal with today’s targets right now.”_

“Targets?” Makoto murmured as she pulled out her phone and opened the camera app. She tapped it to focus, and then both girls’ eyes widened as Akechi ended the call and tapped his own screen, and the familiar tugging feeling of the metaverse surrounded them. Makoto slammed her thumb on the button over and over as they both dove backwards to avoid the proximity pulling them in as well, and they ended up in a heap on the floor, shocked and unsure of what they’d seen.

“Makoto…” Futaba said, very slowly. “What...was that? He was talking about...dealing with targets...and then he left for the metaverse…”

Makoto was staring at her phone, where a picture of Akechi half-faded from reality stared back. “I want to say that he’s doing Mementos requests without us, or his detective work, but… Someone was giving him orders, and it wasn’t Akira-kun.”

Futaba was starting to shake. “B-But… His mask is red. I know he’s suspicious, but he can’t be… He can’t…” She knew what it implied, she knew Akechi had never quite been one of them no matter what Akira thought or how they acted around him, but to have it apparently plainly in front of them hurt like a punch to the gut.

“We can’t make a judgment based on just that,” Makoto said quickly, scooting over to wrap an arm around her. “But we need to know what he’s up to. We...still don’t know if he lied about when he awakened his persona, and now this…” She shook her head. “Futaba-chan, is there any way that we can bug his phone? We might be able to figure out who he was talking to, and then we’d know for sure.”

“I could probably get hold of it…” Futaba said quietly. “But what do we tell Akira? He’s been doing his own thing; he’s going to freak out if we show him that picture and tell him what we heard.”

Makoto hesitated. “...we won’t tell him, or the others. Not until we have definitive proof,” she said after a moment. “If we rush into making accusations, someone could get hurt. We don’t want to blow Akira-kun’s cover, and we definitely don’t want the others acting any different around him if… if he’s dangerous.”

Futaba said nothing, just leaned against Makoto and chewed her her lip anxiously. Despite being suspicious, she _liked_ Akechi. Once you got past all of his haughty ‘Detective Prince’ bullshit, he was just a dumb kid like the rest of them. And he liked space, and Featherman. She’d wanted to get him to play an actual video game at some point and not Akira’s pile of junk, and marathon her new box set. But if he was the person they’d been looking for…

That meant he’d been the one that…

“I’ll get a bug ready and get his phone as soon as possible,” she said at last. “I need to know if it’s him.”

They stayed on the floor in the hallway, sitting against the wall until Futaba had stopped shaking and was ready to keep going to Akihabara. Makoto spared one last glance at her phone, where the picture of a half-vanished Akechi filled the screen like a bright warning sign, and then tucked it away and helped Futaba up. They shouldn’t worry until they knew for sure, but it was too suspicious not to.

_Akira… I really hope you know what you’re doing..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akechi: [“A monster, a monster, I’ve turned into a monster…”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGbNbn8tB5k)  
> Futaba, freaking out: “Why are you like this?”
> 
> _No one can rewrite the stars; we’re bound to break and my hands are tied…_ I hope everyone enjoyed that planetarium date because haaaaaaaaahahaha, yeah. This kind of hurt to write, actually. But in this house, the way to fix Akechi is to _kick him repeatedly until he breaks_. Stomp~ :3
> 
> Shorter chapter this time, and probably next time too. It’s a bunch of little setup things before the school festival, plus time crunch as my con gets closer. Geeze, though, I looked at my notes a while back and was like, “God, it’s October already?” and now I look and it’s more like, “God, it’s _still_ October?” XDDD
> 
> Next chapter: _“Honey, I’m home.”_


	30. October 24th, 2016

Akira took a deep breath, looking up at the sky and shaking out his arms as he finally set the heavy bag of fertilizer he’d been carrying down on the roof. He hadn’t been up here since they’d been forced to move their hideout, and it was almost nostalgic. Back then, they hadn’t known who was responsible for the planters tucked over in a sunny corner, but now he watched Haru set her own bag of topsoil down with a smile.

“Where’s Morgana today?” Haru asked, easily noting the absence of his usual bag, and Akira shrugged.

“He’s out with Ann. She wanted an opinion on a new outfit before she buys it, and he basically trampled me to volunteer.”

Haru giggled, jabbing a hole in the topsoil bag. “It’s adorable how smitten he is. I can imagine going with Ann is much more entertaining for him than spending the afternoon in the dirt.”

“Yeah, well, I like the roof. His loss,” Akira said, shrugging. “But it’s hard to believe we never ran into you up here at the beginning of the year. We basically met up here randomly, back when the Thieves first got started. I’m not sure if that counts as luck or not that we didn’t meet sooner.”

Haru smiled. “The start of the school year is always a busy time. I didn’t have as much free time to work with the plants as I would have liked.” She dusted off her hands and regarded the planters critically. “How strange to think that we were so near each other all that time and didn’t realize.”

“Better than Makoto and Yusuke, who both met us by stalking us,” Akira said flippantly. Haru stared at him, shocked, and he laughed out loud at the look on her face. “Oh no, did we not tell you those stories?”

“No,” Haru said emphatically. “Why would they be stalking you?”

As they mixed fertilizer and repotted a few of the larger plants, Akira explained how Makoto and Yusuke had joined the team. “I guess we stalked Yusuke back, a little. Technically Futaba was spying on us, too, so that’s sort of like stalking. And of course our detective, but that was more nebulous since he didn’t know who we were for sure until I grabbed him for the team.”

“So the Phantom Thieves are truly built on bonds of friendship and stalking,” Haru said brightly. “Were any of you stalking me?”

She was surprisingly enthusiastic about the stalking thing, and Akira blinked, unsure how to answer. “Well… Not really? We were looking into your father, but honestly we didn’t even realize he had a daughter. Makoto recognized your name from school, but it didn’t register that you were related until after.”

Haru looked almost disappointed. “Oh. I suppose that makes sense.” She gently patted the soil down around a tomato plant, then sat back to look at Akira. “I’ve been thinking. About my father, and the Phantom Thieves, and the Black Mask.”

“Is something wrong?” Akira asked, sitting back as well. He dusted off his hands, waiting for her to explain.

“No, it’s not that something is wrong…” she said. “I’ve been trying to consider the circumstances that would drive the Black Mask to act as they have been. It’s someone with metaverse powers, obviously, but they must be working for someone with something to gain.”

That made sense. It had been what they had originally thought of Okumura, after all: using the Black Mask as a means to advance his company and himself. But if Okumura wasn’t the head of the snake, who was? It was an impossible problem; in a city with ten million people, could they trace it back? Akira picked up a potted cabbage, checking the soil to see if it needed water and musing, “Your dad was making requests to someone else, to have Black Mask eliminate people. He was a successful CEO, which means he could offer a lot in return. So the question is, who could benefit from what he offered?”

Haru looked down at her tomatoes awkwardly, and Akira realized his mistake immediately. “Oh no, I’m sorry, that was insensitive…”

“It’s all right, Akira-kun,” Haru said gently. “We need to figure this out as soon as possible. I can handle it.” She reached over to take his hand. “If we knew who else was benefitting from the Black Mask’s actions, it would be easier to follow them back to a source, but we don’t even have that, I suppose.”

“It’s someone who was keeping Madarame, Kaneshiro, and your dad in line,” Akira said. “And who was powerful enough to cover up Futaba’s mother’s death as a suicide.” It was slowly becoming apparent that they might have stumbled into something that wasn’t as simple as a change of heart. “How did things get like this?”

Haru squeezed his hand. “We’ll figure it out, Leader. Even if the public is against us, we know that we’re doing the right thing.”

Akira nodded, squeezing back, but he couldn’t completely kill the tiny seed of doubt, that they were in way over their heads.

***

He got back to Yongen later than usual, after finishing up the repotting and working desperately to get the dirt from under his fingernails, and Leblanc was a welcome sight when he finally got there.

Akira stopped as the door swung closed behind him, just looking at the cafe and feeling warm. Sojiro behind the counter, Futaba and Akechi seated on their usual stools… His _family_ , minus Morgana, who was apparently still out with Ann. Six months ago he never would have imagined something like this, but here it was, real and solid and safe, no matter what the public thought of the Phantom Thieves.

Akechi glanced up from his coffee and smiled. “Welcome home.”

“Honey, I’m home.” The words slipped out before he could think to rein them back, overwhelmed by the idea of Akechi using the word ‘home’ in reference to Leblanc. Even if it was just in reference to it being Akira’s home.

Fortunately, Akechi took it in stride. “You’re back awfully late,” he chided teasingly, and Akira couldn’t help but peck a kiss to his cheek as he came over to drop off his bag.

“Sorry. Haru needed help with her plants,” he said casually, ignoring Sojiro, who had stopped mid-prep to stare at them. “How are you?”

“Well, Futaba-chan has been holding my phone hostage for twenty minutes now, but other than that I’m quite well, thank you,” Akechi said, gesturing down the counter with a shrug, and Akira sighed, raising an eyebrow.

“Futaba, you know he gets calls from work. What are you even doing?” he asked.

She looked over at him, something disapproving in her gaze for a second before she held the phone up. “Look at this thing,” she said, rotating it as if he had the slightest clue what he was supposed to be looking for. “This phone is two years old and he’s never bothered to clear out any of the freeware junk or useless apps they stick on here. Half his memory’s being eaten up with garbage.”

“You can’t uninstall some of those. The phone won’t let you,” Akechi protested weakly, sounding like he’d already had this discussion.

“ _You_ can’t. I can,” Futaba said, going back to tapping away.

Akira sat down on the stool beside Akechi. “Just let her be, then. She did that to mine, too, and I swear the battery will last twice as long. Somehow.” He laid a hand over Akechi’s, and Sojiro’s sharp eyes picked it out almost immediately.

“So,” his guardian said casually. “How have things been? We haven’t really had a chance to talk much lately. You’re out running around doing god knows what all the time.”

“I have an extensive network of friends,” Akira said grandly, puffing himself up for the sake of dramatics. “They fight over my time and attention.”

Nevermind that half of his friendships had at some point involved sketchy medical trials, fortune-telling, almost getting kicked out of a church, running around Shinjuku host clubs, frequenting a bar, and helping with work for the Yakuza. Sojiro would have a heart attack, even without mentioning the Thieves.

“Your web of contacts stretches across the city as you control Tokyo from the shadows,” Akechi teased, and Sojiro rolled his eyes.

“Well,” he said to Akira, with a pointed glance at the detective, “just remember if any of your myriad friends stay here overnight, you don’t have a door.”

Akira choked on air. “I-- What?!” He could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, and a glance at Akechi showed that he was flushed as well.

Futaba cackled from her end of the counter and slid Akechi’s phone down to them. “All done~” she sang. “Try it now.”

Akechi cleared his throat and picked it up to tap through to the apps screen. “Futaba-chan, you’re a miracle-worker,” he said wonderingly. “I tried to delete that ridiculous sports app at least a hundred times. Everything looks so much cleaner now without all of those extra programs.”

“You can pay me back later,” Futaba said smugly. “Sojiro, is the curry ready?”

“Yep. Akira, go put your things upstairs.” Sojiro glanced over at Akechi. “Are you staying for curry?”

Akechi hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Akira hurried up to throw his bag at the desk, then thumped back downstairs. Akechi and Futaba had been shooed into a booth, and Akira slid in next to Akechi, beaming. “How’s work?”

“It’s going all right, I suppose,” Akechi said, as Sojiro brought over four plates of curry and sat down beside Futaba. “Sae-san is running herself ragged on the Phantom Thieves investigation. It’s growing to be rather concerning.”

“They’re still all that anyone wants to talk about,” Sojiro sighed. “Just with a different slant to it, now.”

“Still not a fan, Sakura-san?” Akechi asked.

“I was indifferent before, but now I can’t see why _anyone_ would be a fan,” Sojiro said, and Akira took a giant bite of curry, glimpsing Futaba doing the same across the table.

Akechi nudged Akira. “I’ve been invited to speak at your school festival,” he said, and his smile was the artificial one he used for TV. “Niijima-chan texted me; apparently the vote was overwhelming. I’m sure they’ll expect me to speak about the Thieves, but I’m not sure what to say.”

“It’s just like giving your opinion on TV, right?” Futaba asked, and Akechi looked away, his smile slipping.

“Considering the overwhelming opposition to the Thieves right now, I’m not sure my opinion would be welcomed. The one interview that I’ve done since then, where I suggested they might not be murderers, inspired quite a bit of ire online.”

“I don’t think they are either, so you’re not alone,” Akira said, and Futaba nodded vigorously.

Sojiro sighed again. “You kids are way too optimistic.”

“It’s not optimism, Sakura-san. It’s just deduction,” Akechi said, but there was an edge to his voice, and Akira resolved to ask him about it later.

***

Akechi kicked up a fit when Sojiro wouldn’t let him pay for his curry, looking embarrassed past the point of coherence at the implications when Sojiro glanced at Akira and declared him ‘part of the group.’

“The other kids pay _maybe_ once a month, if at all,” Sojiro grumbled, already ready to leave. “You’re not exempt from that.”

“I can’t possibly…”

“Hey, Akechi,” Akira said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Shut up. Come on, you said you’d explain the last arc of Featherman R since Futaba doesn’t have the patience.”

“You need to actually _watch_ it!” Futaba cried from beside Sojiro, and Akechi bristled.

“I’m not going to _spoil it_ ; he just wants a summary before we start,” he insisted, and Akira congratulated himself for distracting the detective from worrying about dinner. Discussing their ongoing marathon of the original series of Featherman, since it was apparently a _heinous_ crime that Akira had started watching during Victory, was always a sure-fire distraction.

Once Sojiro and Futaba had left, though, he leaned over to look at Akechi, whose expression had ended up rather downcast.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You know you can turn Makoto down, right? I know she’s kinda scary, but she won’t get mad at you. Don’t do the festival if you don’t want to.”

“That wouldn’t look very good for my image,” Akechi said, and Akira frowned. There was a wrong note in his voice, but Akira couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. The detective smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll simply remain as neutral as possible. Everyone is more interested in learning if we know their identities than my personal opinions, anyway.”

“Well, I trust that you won’t go onstage and spill our identities to the whole school,” Akira teased.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Akechi replied. “Perhaps I’ll go up there and blame all of it on you. You singlehandedly stole five entire hearts all on your own.”

Akira laughed out loud. “Five entire hearts, huh? But nobody knows about Futaba.” He took a deep breath to get his giggles under control, then admitted, “That is how I’d want it to go, you know. If anything were to happen, I’d never name the rest of you guys.”

Something wavered in Akechi’s expression, and he leaned in to peck a kiss to Akira’s lips. “I don’t understand you sometimes, you impossibly selfless monster,” he said, and there were too many things in his voice for Akira to parse. “You’re not going to jail. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Before Akira could respond, Akechi pulled away and headed for the stairs. “Come on, are we watching Featherman, or not?”

“Of course we are!” Akira followed quickly, and Akechi nodded to himself before starting to summarize the last arc.

“All right. So, now that Black Condor has been won back from evil’s influence and Lord Zero has found the Merrillium Crystal at the lost crash site, the monsters he sends are going to be even stronger…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **RANK UP**  
>  **CONFIDANTE AKIRA KURUSU/GORO AKECHI**  
>  **FOOL/JUSTICE RANK 8**
> 
> **RANK UP**  
>  **CONFIDANTE SOJIRO SAKURA**  
>  **HIEROPHANT RANK 4**
> 
> (Yes, we skipped hierophant ranks. He’s at the cafe enough, they happened offscreen somewhere. Shush.)
> 
> There will _not_ be a chapter on Saturday, because I will be at Katsucon starting...tomorrow, actually. So the next chapter will go up next Wednesday, because actually something important is happening that I should probably make sure I write out properly, after I get home.
> 
> That being said, I’m going to be running around Katsu as Ryoji for most of the weekend. If any of you are going to be there and happen to spot me, come ask how my “husband” is and I’ll try to play Hours!Ryoji for you. Maybe you’ll get a spoiler out of it, since real-time is pretty close to fic-time. ;)
> 
> Only rule is, don’t be too weird in front of my gf. She’s not a Persona person. :P
> 
> Next chapter: Akira learns that sometimes, family really doesn’t come with conditions. He should probably be minding the uninvited guests at the school festival, though...


	31. October 26th, 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of two chapters I’m putting up, because I had an idea how to get through something while I was at Katsu, and we did skip a chapter, I guess. So, enjoy your double-feature!

“Just when you think you’ve escaped high school… Jeeze, I wish there was a way to turn Mitsuru-san down when she asks for things,” Yosuke said, staring up at the front of Shujin Academy morosely. It was mid-afternoon, and he gave off the air of wanting to be anywhere but where he was.

Yu glanced at him. “Shouldn’t you be happy, since it’s a school festival and not class?”

Yosuke sighed heavily. “School festivals just give me flashbacks to crossdressing and being stuck in _two_ weird group-date cafes. At least we’re not forced to participate in anything at this one, I guess. But I don’t know how Mitsuru-san expects us to find anything with this many people around.”

“For some reason, she thinks Okumura Haru is connected to the Phantom Thieves. Plus, they’re supposedly from this school, based on their first target, so we just have to look for anything weird.” Yu shrugged, heading towards the school and forcing Yosuke to hurry along behind him. “Come on, I’ll buy you food if you don’t complain.”

Inside was a sea of kids in plaid school uniforms and visiting family and friends, even though the festival had already been going for a few hours. Yu and Yosuke wandered around, exploring the attractions, keeping their eyes open for Okumura Haru, and occasionally asking students what they thought of the Phantom Thieves. The most common response seemed to be a definite negative, with a range from ‘it’s a shame they turned out out to be bad guys’ to ‘they should get the death penalty’.

“Death penalty seems kind of harsh,” Yosuke said, as they walked upstairs towards the second floor. “Even if they did kill a guy. Especially if they’re students.”

“Yeah, that would be a bit much. I don’t think minors can even get the death penalty unless it’s something really bad,” Yu said.

“You mean like if they were behind all the mental shutdowns?” Yosuke asked, but Yu had paused, looking around in confusion. He’d felt something, a strange tug somewhere in his chest. It had happened before, and he’d learned over time that it was when another Wild Card was in the vicinity. But it had never been this strong before for a single person. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking frantically at the throngs of people, and just as quickly as it appeared, the feeling vanished. Yu made a disappointed noise, but it confirmed one thing for him.

Their presumed phantom thief was here somewhere.

“What is it, partner?” Yosuke asked, concerned. “You zoned out for a minute there.”

“I felt them. Another Wild Card. And it was strong, like this is someone powerful,” Yu said.

Yosuke’s eyes widened. “Do you think if we got close enough, you could figure out who it was?”

“It might be hard in this crowd, but we have to try!”

Despite the knowledge that the Wild Card was there somewhere, though, the feeling didn’t return strongly enough to track, even when they explored the other floors. It hummed somewhere inside of Yu like a low buzzing, an infuriating reminder that he was _this close_ and wasn’t getting any answers, and sometimes it even felt like it was coming from all around them, not just from one place. It was clear that the sheer amount of people around were interfering. When they finally stopped doing laps of the school and slunk into a classroom promising takoyaki, both of them were running low on patience. They couldn’t even tell if it was a student or a visitor. Mitsuru was asking for a miracle.

The girls of class 2-D had a few customers, mostly curious girls who seemed to be talking about Akechi Goro, who was apparently somewhere in the school because he was going to be the keynote speaker. From what little they could overhear, he’d apparently run out of this classroom earlier, a group of other students in pursuit.

“Isn’t that the ‘second coming of the Detective Prince’ or whatever?” Yosuke commented. “I think I’ve seen him on TV. He doesn’t seem as cool as Naoto. He’s too pretty, like an idol or something.”

“He’s got a lot of fans, though,” Yu said. “He must be doing something right. And he’s been looking into the Phantom Thieves for months. It might be worth trying to talk to him, if we can get anywhere near him in this crowd.”

One of the girls, dressed in a maid outfit, brought over a menu and smiled apologetically. “We only have Russian takoyaki at the moment. Sorry about that!”

“That’s fine. We’ll take one of those,” Yu said. He put on his best smile, that had won over countless people back in Inaba, and said casually, “There’s a bunch of people here talking about Akechi Goro and the Phantom Thieves. What do you think of them?”

The girl bit her lip, refusing to make eye contact. “...Akechi-kun doesn’t think that the Phantom Thieves are murderers, and neither do we,” she said, quiet, but firm.

Yu hesitated, caught off-guard. She was the first person they’d spoken to all day that had expressed any sort of positive inclination towards them. “Really?”

“Really. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, but our class believes in the Phantom Thieves. They’ve helped too many people to be evil.” She put on a starry smile and waved. “I’ll be right back with your takoyaki~!”

After she flounced off, Yu looked over at Yosuke. “That’s interesting. At least we know Hamuko-chan isn’t the only one who still believes in them wholeheartedly.”

“We’ll have to listen to the detective’s speech, won’t we?” Yosuke sighed. “I guess we can scan the crowd to try to see if Okumura-chan’s here.”

“That’s looking like our best bet, at this point. Let’s head to the gym after our takoyaki and find a spot on the balcony.”

When the takoyaki arrived, however, neither had the courage to eat the red one.

***

Yu was ultimately unimpressed by Akechi Goro. He went up onstage, and despite talking and fielding questions for almost ten minutes, managed to say absolutely nothing of substance. Certainly nothing substantial about how the investigation into the Thieves was going, and nothing about their identities, which was what the crowd wanted to know.

The very first question asked had been, “Do you have an idea who they are?” and he’d deflected with something about confidential case details.

But overall, Yu just didn’t like the feeling he gave off. The tug of a present Wild Card was still there, though in a room this packed there was no way to track it, but on top of that the round gem he wore on a chain beneath his clothes flared with warmth as he listened to the detective speak. Akechi Goro, to put it in a way Adachi might have, was full of shit. The Orb didn’t usually pick up lies, otherwise he wouldn’t wear it everywhere, but everything about the ‘Detective Prince’ burned with falsehood and illusion. Celebrities did that, of course. Rise put on a smile and a show for interviews and fans all the time. But something about this one just rang a wrong note, and Yu didn’t like it.

He watched Akechi walk offstage, wondering if it would be worth it to try to find him and talk to him, but then Yosuke grabbed his arm and pointed down at the ground level. “There she is!”

Okumura Haru was standing near the side of the audience, talking with a boy in Shujin pants with fluffy hair and a shorter girl with long red hair. The two unfamiliar kids were facing away, but Yu pulled out his phone anyway and snapped a picture as quickly as he could. Maybe Mitsuru could use it, if they didn’t manage to get a better one.

“Let’s go!” he called to Yosuke, and they ran for the stairs. But people were trying to exit the gym in all directions, and there was a bottleneck at the stairs preventing them from getting down quickly. By the time they managed to fight their way to floor level, both Okumura and her friends had disappeared into the crowd. “Damn it!”

“You got a picture, right?” Yosuke panted, grabbing at Yu’s arm.

“Yeah, but that could be literally any classmate, not necessarily a thief. And we didn’t even get their faces.” Yu sighed, looking down at the picture. “At least it’s clear. And that girl’s hair was pretty distinctive…”

People were clearly packing up, getting ready to leave, a much smaller crowd returning to the attractions now that the special guest had spoken and gone.

“Is there any point in sticking around if people are starting to go home?” Yosuke asked. “We’ve probably missed our chance.”

Yu looked around at the kids and adults still milling around, and focused for a moment. The pull of another Wild Card was gone, and he shook his head. “Whoever the Wild Card is, isn’t here anymore. We might as well head back to the dorm and report to Mitsuru-san.”

As relieved as Yosuke was to escape the school festival, even though nothing bad had happened, Yu couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He’d been in the same building as the person they were looking for, and hadn’t been able to track them down.

_You pursued Adachi unknowingly for nearly a year. Do not be so hard on yourself,_ Izanagi scolded. 

“True…” Yu murmured. Every piece brought them a little closer to the full picture, at least. Hopefully they could figure out what was going on before something terrible happened. Or before the police snatched up the Thieves before they could.

***

Akira, Futaba, and Morgana got off the train at Yongen-Jaya station, still smiling and content from the festival.

“Good thing your _boyfriend_ didn’t blow our identities onstage, ‘Kira,” Futaba ribbed him good-naturedly. “He actually did a pretty good job of not revealing anything.”

“I don’t think the police want him spilling case details to high-schoolers either,” Akira pointed out, grinning. “Enough about the speech, though; did you have fun at the actual festival?”

Futaba’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Are they all like that? The haunted house on the first floor was awesome, and your class’s takoyaki was pretty lame, but that maid cafe on the third floor had really good pastry. And I didn’t freak out at the crowd or anything!”

Akira patted her on the head, but Morgana grumbled, “You could have left me outside of the haunted house.”

“How were we supposed to know that you’re afraid of zombies?” Akira teased.

“I’m not! It just caught me off-guard! And their makeup was really good! They were following you for almost five minutes and you didn’t notice!”

Busy laughing at Morgana, they wandered into Leblanc and almost didn’t notice Sojiro sitting at the counter despite the ‘Closed’ sign on the door. But then Futaba stopped dead, her eyes widening, and Akira followed her gaze to where Sojiro was holding up a _very_ familiar calling card, his expression furious.

“I found this in your room. Are you going to explain this?” Sojiro said coldly.

Akira could see Futaba’s shoulders starting to shake. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly. “Explain…? I… I… Why were you in my room?!”

“I was looking for the dishes you keep hoarding. Don’t change the subject, Futaba. What is this, why do you have one of these? Is this a real one?” There was clearly worry under the anger in his tone, but neither Akira nor Futaba were comforted by that.

“Why did you keep the card?” Morgana said from where he was ducked into Akira’s bag, but both of them ignored him. Futaba was silent, struggling to figure out what to say, her breathing quick with anxiety and the beginnings of panic. Akira stepped forward, pressing his hand against her back gently, and that seemed to be the key that allowed the words to start spilling out of her.

“I was trapped!” she cried. “Ever since Mom died, I was lost...in a labyrinth of my own heart...and I couldn’t get out by myself! Having my heart stolen was the only way!”

Sojiro sighed, then gestured to the booths. “Just...tell me what happened,” he said. “If you’ve had a change of heart, I want to hear about it. Please.” He sounded less angry and more worried, now, but Akira couldn’t stop the cold feeling of dread that was settling in his stomach.

They moved to sit in one of the booths across from Sojiro, and Futaba huddled into Akira’s side, crying as he wrapped an arm around her and held her tight. Sojiro’s eyes softened as he looked at his kids, and he realized he’d overwhelmed them, but this was too important to let slide.

“I thought it was strange, when you started going out more. Especially to the beach. I am your guardian, you know. Of course I’d notice such a drastic shift in behavior,” he said, trying to tone down his frustration and worry so that he wouldn’t make it worse. “And it occurred to me after watching all of these shows about the Phantom Thieves that it sounded similar to your situation. But I wasn’t sure until I found this card.” He frowned. “What did they do, Futaba?”

“They…” Futaba hiccuped awkwardly. “They changed my cognition, like in Mom’s research. They stole my heart, to make me better…”

Sojiro took a deep breath. “Wakaba’s research… She was right, then. All of that cognitive psience could be used to help people…” He looked from Futaba, to Morgana perched on one of the counter stools, and then to Akira. “Akira, you knew about this calling card, didn’t you?”

Akira nodded tentatively, keyed up and rigid with nerves even as he tried to soothe Futaba.

“Are you connected to the Phantom Thieves?” Sojiro asked, and Akira flinched at the directness of the question. “The teacher at your school, Kitagawa, the prosecutor’s sister and Akechi… All of these people, tied to this case, all seem to be around you. But the Thieves are criminals. People are calling for their heads, saying that they’re murderers. Why would you give Futaba the means to contact dangerous people like that?!”

“I asked them myself!” Futaba shouted, when Akira just stared down at his hands. “Akira saved me! I wouldn’t have been able to change my heart on my own!”

Sojiro stared at them, dumbfounded. “... _Akira_ saved you?” He looked them over, and neither of them would meet his eyes. “Oh lord. You’re not connected to the Phantom Thieves. You are one, aren’t you?”

“...kind of their leader,” Akira admitted quietly. He all-but _yanked_ at Arsène, dragging his persona’s unaffected facade over his own to hide how anxiety was beginning to eat away at the edges of his thoughts. What had happened with Futaba’s uncle was one thing; he hadn’t been at fault. But this was all him. He was the Leader of Hearts, and he was the one who would have to take responsibility.

But he was so afraid.

“You’re--” Sojiro’s fists clenched as he clearly tried to hold back whatever words were about to escape. Instead, he said through gritted teeth, “How long has this been going on?”

“Sojiro…”

“Be quiet, Futaba. Akira, _how long has this been going on?_ ”

Akira folded his hands in his lap, hoping to mask how they trembled faintly. “...since my third day here.”

Sojiro’s mouth fell open. “You couldn’t even go _three days_ without getting mixed up in trouble?!”

Akira stared downwards, biting his lip. This was it. Sojiro had warned him not to get mixed up in anything, and not only had he disobeyed, he’d gotten mixed up in the _biggest thing possible_. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts were public enemy number one. There was no way he would be allowed to stay here anymore. Maybe one of his friends could take him in, but he didn’t want to ask that of them.

“You’re telling me that I’ve been sheltering the Phantom Thieves for over six months?” Sojiro said, looking over his kids with all the fury of a parent that had been blindsided. “Akira? _Say something._ ”

“I’m sorry!” Akira choked out, and Futaba looked up at him, her eyes widening as she realized it was the same reaction he’d had before, to her uncle. She threw her arms around his middle tightly, and he took a ragged breath. “I didn’t mean to. Things just...happened. Kamoshida was going to expel me, and then we just...we didn’t stop, we were trying to help people, and then Black Mask killed Haru’s dad… We didn’t kill anyone, I swear, it’s all a mistake…!”

Sojiro closed his eyes, visibly centering himself, and then asked, “So… All of those kids?” When Akira nodded awkwardly, he sighed. “Even the detective kid?” Another nod. “Good lord, how did you even manage this?”

“It just happened,” Akira repeated, almost pleading. “Sojiro, I never meant for things to get this bad, I swear.”

“God, Akira, I believe you. I know you didn’t kill anyone. I just can’t believe it’s gone on this long and I didn’t notice.” Sojiro leaned forward, resting his arms on the table to look right at him. “Did you know that an arrest warrant was issued for the Thieves today? There’s a thirty million yen reward for information that leads to their capture. People are taking this very seriously.”

Akira realized he was shaking, despite Futaba’s grip on him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out, and Sojiro frowned.

“You’re going to stop this, right?” he asked. “People are looking for you, and people are even calling for the death penalty.”

“We can’t stop now!” Futaba cried. “We have to find who killed my mom! We have to find Black Mask before he kills anyone else!”

“Killed?” Sojiro said, alarmed.

“You know that how mom died wasn’t normal!” Futaba said. “She was murdered, and it’s something really big! We’re the only ones who can do something!”

“Futaba, _stop this!_ ” Sojiro shouted, slamming his hands on the tabletop. Both kids flinched back, grips tightening on each other, and Sojiro took a deep breath. “Yes, I knew something was strange about how your mother died. But there are people out there more powerful than you or I are capable of dealing with. That’s why I retired, to keep you safe where I couldn’t keep Wakaba safe. If anything were to happen to you kids…”

Akira bit down on his lip, trying to steady his shaky breathing, and said quietly, “Futaba’s right. We can’t stop now. The regular police aren’t going to be able to do anything, and if it’s someone with as much influence as we think, we can’t trust _any_ adults right now.” A pause, then, tentatively, “Except you?”

Sojiro sighed heavily. “...I won’t turn you in. Even if thirty million yen is a lot.” The tiniest flicker of a smile crossed his expression, but was quickly replaced by seriousness. “Just promise me you won’t charge into a fight you can’t win. I’m serious. If these people are that powerful, it might be something that you kids can’t handle on your own. And I don’t want anything to happen to you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Akira said, and Futaba nodded beside him. He looked down at his hands, still trembling, and asked almost inaudibly, “Should I pack?”

“Pack?”

“You’re… You’re harboring a phantom thief,” Akira said softly. “That makes you an accomplice. I just figured I should...go somewhere else… That you wouldn’t want…”

“Kid,” Sojiro interrupted, and then waited for Akira to look up before he said pointedly, “Shut up. You’re safe here. I told you that before. I’m your guardian, and if all I can do is make sure you have a safe place to live, that’s what I’m going to do. Understand?”

Akira just stared at him, unable to even muster anything to say. It was too much. He was the most wanted person in the country, and Sojiro _didn’t care_. He could stay. He didn’t have to leave. His vision blurred, and he could feel the tears trailing down his face, but couldn’t find the willpower to reach up and brush them away. 

“Oh, what the hell,” Sojiro muttered, but his voice was fond, and he got up to grab a handful of napkins from the container on the counter and bring them over to Akira. Akira just looked up at him helplessly, accepting the napkins with shaky hands, and Sojiro shook his head. “One day, kid, you have to tell me about why you’re like this, okay?”

“Okay,” Akira whispered, shutting his eyes as Sojiro patted him on the head.

Sojiro smiled. “Let me get you two some food. I’m sure you ate nothing but junk at the festival.”

“Akechi almost died eating spicy takoyaki,” Futaba chirped.

“Died?”

Akira barely heard them, even though Futaba was still wrapped around him like some kind of comfort koala. He was just doing his best to wipe at his eyes and not get snot all over the table, overwhelmed. Despite everything he’d done, despite all of Tokyo being convinced they were murderers, even _that_ wasn’t enough to convince Sojiro to get rid of him. Even with the threat of arrest hanging over them like a guillotine, it was somehow the safest he’d felt in ages. He hadn’t lost his family. And now he knew one thing for sure.

If he was allowed to stay, he might _never_ leave Tokyo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yosuke is surprisingly hard for me to write. All the P4 kids are, honestly. But as the former Investigation Team, it’s only right that they get to hunt for clues. ^_^;;; It’s a shame the most distinctive Thief is the one that doesn’t go outside much. And they should have known that a _crowd_ wasn’t going to be the best place to look for one specific person.
> 
> Yes, we’re smushing the school festival events into one day, because _god it’s still October._ This is getting ridiculous. It’s been October for ages real-time. How dare a month last a whole month. X’D
> 
> Next chapter, being something of a bonus, is probably a bit of a cop-out, skimming something in favor of just _starting the Casino_ on Saturday. It’s basically the same, without the blackmail. I’m just really anxious to get to the Palace at this point because there is a _storm coming_.


	32. October 29th, 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second of two chapters posted together. If you just scrolled to the bottom of the chapter list after the update, you’re missing one!

**Chat: New Chat - Makoto, Futaba, Akira, and 4 others**

> _[Ryuji - 7:27pm] Okay, what’s the deal? Why did you make a new group chat, prez? You didn’t even bother to name it._
> 
> _[Haru - 7:27pm] You didn’t include Akechi-kun. I’m assuming that you wish to talk about his proposal?_
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:28pm] I do. I’m not sure how comfortable I feel taking on this request, especially since he recommended we disband afterwards._
> 
> _[Akira - 7:28pm] It is your sister. No one’s going to judge you for being leery._
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:28pm] That’s not all of it. I just...have a bad feeling about this. Akechi says he wants to help, but we still don’t know if he can be trusted._
> 
> _[Ann - 7:29pm] Do we still think he’s Black Mask? I mean, everything he helped us with in the spaceport, hasn’t he proved himself?_
> 
> _[Yusuke - 7:29pm] He would have to be an exceptionally good actor._
> 
> _[Akira - 7:29pm] Goro was with us when the last mental shutdown happened._
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:30pm] I know, Akira._
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:30pm] And I want to help my sister. I’ve known she has a Palace for a while._
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:30pm] Plus the arrest warrant. But something seems off._
> 
> _[Ann - 7:30pm] I don’t know, Akechi seemed pretty worried. We can at least check it out, and then bail out if it looks like something’s wrong?_
> 
> _[Ryuji - 7:30pm] Seems like the best bet. If we leave that warrant, someone’s gonna catch us eventually._
> 
> _[Haru - 7:31pm] Does that sound okay, Mako-chan?_
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:31pm] I guess…_
> 
> _[Akira - 7:32pm] We have time. We don’t have to rush anything. It’s 3 days before anyone has enough free time for us to do the Palace anyway._
> 
> _[Akira - 7:32pm] That said, if you’re uncomfortable while we’re in there, say something, Makoto. I know this won’t be easy._
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:34pm] All right, Leader. I will._
> 
> _[Akira - 7:35pm] As for disbanding, we’ll wait and see how this Palace goes. Even if the police return to normal and the danger passes, we still have to find Black Mask._
> 
> _[Futaba - 7:35pm] Black Mask won’t be able to hide for long. We’ll smoke him out!_

***

**Chat: New Chat - Makoto, Futaba**

> _[Futaba - 7:45pm] God, you never named this chat either. O_o_
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:45pm] Is that really important?_
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:45pm] You bugged Akechi-kun’s phone, right?_
> 
> _[Futaba - 7:46pm] Uh, yeah. He just hasn’t called whoever that was since. I can’t force him to make phone calls._
> 
> _[Futaba - 7:46pm] And I went through his contacts, and it’s like, your sister, the SIU director, and a bunch of other police people. And us._
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:48pm] I hope we find something soon. I don’t know what Akira’s doing anymore and I’m a little afraid to ask. Does he really need to defend Akechi when Akechi isn’t here to see it?_
> 
> _[Futaba - 7:55pm] Kira’s fine. I’m sure he’s got some kind of plan and doesn’t want to risk too many variables._
> 
> _[Futaba - 7:56pm] Remember Ann’s acting? :P_
> 
> _[Makoto - 7:58pm] I suppose. We just need to be careful. Something isn’t right._
> 
> _[Futaba - 7:59pm] We’ve got this. Hey, are you coming over to play more Ocarina of Ages on Saturday?_
> 
> _[Makoto - 8:00pm] Yes, Futaba, I am._

***

**Chat: Handcuff THIS, Detective ;) - Akira, Goro**

> _[Akira - 7:50pm] Hey. Are you busy?_
> 
> _[Akira - 7:55pm] Goro?_
> 
> _[Akira - 8:00pm] Are you ignoring me?_
> 
> _[Goro - 8:03pm] Did you change the name of the chat on me **again?**_
> 
> _[Akira - 8:04pm] Oops._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:04pm] It’s not ‘oops’ if you did it on purpose!_
> 
> _[Akira - 8:05pm] I almost named it ‘save the sushi, eat a thief’. ;)_
> 
> _[Goro - 8:05pm] ...you are the worst. At least you’re not like that out loud or in person. What did you want, exactly? I have homework._
> 
> _[Akira - 8:06pm] Has Niijima-san always had a Palace?_
> 
> _[Goro - 8:10pm] She has shown signs for a while, but it did not fully manifest until recently._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:10pm] As I said, there has been a great deal of extra pressure on her lately._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:10pm] But she has had a shadow in Mementos since I first accessed the metaverse mid-July._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:17pm] Akira? Are you still there?_
> 
> _[Akira - 8:18pm] Sorry, Morgana’s whining that I’m not doing my homework._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:18pm] Please do your homework. I refuse to date a dropout._
> 
> _[Akira - 8:19pm] Fiiiiine. Only because you asked nicely, honey~_
> 
> _[Goro - 8:20pm] Perhaps if you do well enough I’ll reward you._
> 
> _[Akira - 8:20pm] gettnig to work rightnow talk to u soon <3 _

 

Akira tossed the phone onto his bed and headed for the desk, prepared to obliterate his math homework with that kind of motivation behind him, then paused mid-step and glanced back at the phone warily.

“What’s wrong?” Morgana asked, as he walked back over to pick it up. “Jeeze, I thought you were finally done texting your dumb boyfriend.”

He ignored Morgana for the moment, scrolling back up the messages anxiously until he found was he was looking for. Right there. His evening ruined in seven letters. Something was wrong.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I’ve never mentioned the names of the regular chats. The Thieves are usually just “The Squad” because Ryuji named it, and they can’t name it “Phantom Thieves of Hearts” because that’s actually too suspicious even for Ryuji. XD
> 
> Edit: Almost forgot, if you want to see pictures from Katsu, they're [here!](http://twilightknight17.tumblr.com/tagged/Katsucon-2018)
> 
> Next chapter: We are _finally_ starting the Casino! Thank goodness. Onwards into my favorite area!


	33. November 2nd, 2016

It was surprising how easy it was to come up with excuses.

Autocorrect was the first one on the list, of course. Four-letter words that start with J: Jump, jest, _June_.

Mistype was the second. Akira, of course, hadn’t asked, because confirmation had a fifty-fifty shot of not being in his favor and a 100% shot of cluing Akechi in that something was wrong. But maybe Akechi had meant June and his fingers had just done something else. It had happened to him before, so it could happen to Akechi.

Memory issues, a test of some kind, he could go on and on making up reasons as long as he didn’t ask for the truth. Or tell his team what Akechi had said, which he hadn’t. It felt like a betrayal not to, but it was easy to put it out of his mind when they got their first glimpse of Niijima-san’s Palace.

It was beautiful, from a certain point of view: a towering wonder of colored lights and glittering gold. If it wasn’t the only thing standing between them and not being ruthlessly pursued by the police, it might have even been fun as they made their way up a side staircase to cross a roof of colored checkerboard.

Niijima-san’s shadow had been waiting for them though, shockingly different from her normal self in a dress that had the male half of the Phantom Thieves swallowing down several things they could say. Yusuke was the only person who had the nerve to comment.

“Those tattoos were quite exquisite in design,” he said. “I presume your sister does not have such in real life, Queen?”

“...no, Fox,” Makoto said flatly, after a moment. “She doesn’t.”

“So we’ve got to get a members card so we can go upstairs and win rigged casino games? This sounds like it’ll take forever,” Ann said.

Akechi shook his head. “We have until the twentieth. And if she’s going to cheat, there’s no reason we can’t as well.”

Ryuji laughed, elbowing Akechi as he walked over to look at the elevator. “So much for only doing the one Palace with us, huh? You couldn’t manage to quit completely.”

“I think I understand now why you would continue doing this,” Akechi said quietly. “When someone you care about is distorted like this… After all, I’m fond of Niijima-san as well.”

Akira looked over the team, then gestured to a door marked ‘employees only’. “We’ll split into two teams and cover the back hallways until we find where to get a members card. That’s our main objective today. If there aren’t too many shadows, then afterwards we’ll go up and scout the main floor and see what the games are like. Is that all right with everyone?”

There was unanimous agreement, and Akira led the way into the back halls. Fortunately it didn’t take long for them to find the database where the member cards were created, and Futaba, after an initial test attempt with a flagrantly fake name, made them a convincing member card to take to the next floor.

And what a next floor it was.

Wide doorways from the central area led to different themed rooms filled with a multitude of games and machines. The Thieves barely had an idea of where to start, but a cognitive dressed smartly in a dealer’s uniform approached to offer them one hundred coins and inform them that the pass to the next floor would cost them five thousand.

“ _Five thousand?_ That’s way too much!” Ryuji shouted, and Ann put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Skull, don’t yell, people are staring,” she admonished. “It’s a casino; we just have to win the required coins.”

“Everything in this effin’ place is gonna be rigged, though!” Ryuji snarled. “It’s basically guaranteed, because she doesn’t want us to win!”

“That’s where I come in,” Futaba declared. “I can’t do much about the card games, but something electronic like the dice or the slots, I bet I can disable the rigging. Or maybe even rig it in our favor.”

“The casino staff will notice if we do too well at once, though,” Yusuke said. “I have never been in a proper casino, but I understand that they do look out for people who have abnormal amounts of good luck, in case they are counting cards or otherwise cheating.”

The Thieves collectively stared at him, and Yusuke shrugged. “The aesthetic of casinos is a frenetic and colorful atmosphere that lends itself well to inspiration and a glimpse into the inner workings of the human mind. I’ve done research.”

Akira glanced around the hub of the floor, almost immediately spotting the employee doors tucked into a corner. “All right, Noir, Queen, Fox, take Oracle and see what you can do about the potential rigging. The rest of us will scope out the rooms and see what our best bets for winning enough coins will be,” he ordered, and they all scattered to look around.

Ryuji and Morgana ended up in the area with the slot machines, surrounded by chimes and bells and disappointed groans. The cognitives paid them no mind despite their costumes, and when Ryuji asked, Morgana shrugged.

“I guess they’re too focused on the games,” he said. “Plus half the employees are in costumes, too.”

“I think our outfits are a little different from bunny girls carrying drinks, but okay,” Ryuji huffed. They made their way down the rows of slot machines, and he grumbled, “Nobody’s winnin’ more than ten or twenty coins at a time. If we try to win enough in here, we’ll be here for years.”

“What about that one?” Morgana asked, pointing at the massive slot machine at the end of the room, and Ryuji walked down to check the rules.

“This one pays out five times the amount you put in, so if we could get to a thousand coins…” Ryuji glanced around. “Yo, Oracle, can you hear me?”

**“What’s up, Skull?”**

“If you get the chance, try to rig the big slot machine. That’d put us over the top easy,” Ryuji said quietly, mindful of the cognitives around them.

**“Hm. I’ll see what I can do. Good idea.”**

Ryuji grinned, and they worked their way back towards the area entrance. Once they’d returned to the hub, they looked around for any of the other Thieves, and Ryuji spotted Akira and Akechi over in the dice game area. They were just watching one of the tables, standing close together, and as Ryuji watched they leaned close, Akira grinning and saying something in Akechi’s ear that made the detective cover his mouth and try to hide a smile.

“Mona,” Ryuji said after a moment. “Are you _positive_ Joker’s just trying to get info out of Crow? Because they seriously look like they’re actually datin’ sometimes.”

“Why else would he be dating someone who’s still suspicious like that?” Morgana said confidently. “He’s just a better actor than Lady Ann. ...please don’t tell her I said that.”

“Jeeze, I won’t. You still won’t have a chance either way, you dumb cat.” But it was a joking tone, and Morgana just jabbed him in the knee with a paw.

Ann wandered over a minute later, but she was grinning too widely to notice either of the boys looking slightly awkward. “Where’s Joker and Crow? I have something to show you all.”

“Still watching the dice games,” Ryuji said. “What’s up? Did you find a good way to win coins?”

“No, but I found something funny,” Ann replied. “They have two more minutes and then I’m going to grab them.”

Ryuji raised an eyebrow, but she was being serious. After a little more waiting, Ann marched off and returned dragging Akira and Akechi by their sleeves, heading for the entrance to one of the other rooms. She jerked her head, indicating Morgana and Ryuji to follow, and they obeyed her unspoken command even as Akira and Akechi babbled confused questions.

Ann stopped the group just behind a crowd gathered to watch a roulette game, and grinned. “Look.”

All four boys stared at the table, wondering what they were supposed to be looking for.

“Roulette probably isn’t our best bet to win coins…” Akira began, and Ann shook her head.

“ _No,_ ” she said pointedly. “The employee! Look!”

All of them yelped. The employee running the roulette table was a perfect twin to Akechi, smiling as he collected incorrect bets and reset the wheel. He was wearing the Casino’s uniform, black slacks and a black waistcoat over a white shirt, with a black bowtie, and his hair was tied back in a ponytail.

“Stop drooling,” Akechi said sharply, elbowing Akira, who was just staring with a vaguely wistful look on his face.

“What?” Akira objected. “You’re hot in shirtsleeves. And with a ponytail.”

Ryuji looked down at Morgana, who shrugged unhelpfully, and then asked, “Why a Casino employee, though? He’s not out in the police station area somewhere?”

“I suppose, if she views the court cases as games to be won,” Akechi mused, “then I as a detective am responsible for bringing those ‘games’ to court in the first place. I’d be willing to bet that other Casino employees are duplicates of other members of the police force, as well.”

 **“Where’d you guys go? We figured out the computer system,”** Futaba’s voice said suddenly, and after a last glance at cognitive Akechi, the Thieves made their way back to the central area. Futaba, Makoto, Yusuke, and Haru were waiting for them, and Futaba summoned the small version of Necronomicon to show them a screen full of percentages and code. “Okay, look,” she said. “I’ve put the dice game to a seventy-five percent win rate, but just at one specific table. That was as high as I could get it without setting off preprogrammed warnings in the system. There’s no rigging at the card games, though I’d be willing to bet the dealers are cheating somehow. And I found a control panel for that big slot machine, so once we have a thousand coins, I’ll rig it so that the next play will guarantee we quintuple our money.”

“Good job, you guys,” Akira praised. “I guess from here it’s down to luck. Should we try to win some today?”

Everyone agreed that they were fine to keep going, and Akira made sure all of them had the number on the member’s card memorized so that all the coins they won would end up in the same place. He handed out ten coins to each of them, and they all split up to try their luck at the Casino’s games. Akira, with the rest of the coins in tow, headed for the rigged dice table, Akechi following in his wake.

“Taking the safe route?” Akechi asked coyly, and Akira shrugged.

“I’m the leader. It’s my responsibility to keep us on track. If I can win the thousand on my own, then it’s okay if the others relax and have fun with the games,” he said. “Besides, I’d rather take my risks on other things.” The statement was punctuated with a wink, and Akechi rolled his eyes.

“I’m not sure how you can get more reckless than launching yourself out of an airlock, Joker,” he said.

Akira smirked, leaning in to kiss him despite the cognitives around them, and then turned to the table. “Are you going to blow on the dice for luck for me~?”

He knew he could just be making things worse, but at this point, he was in too deep. And he still didn’t have any proof that anything was actually wrong. So Akechi might have lied about his persona. That still didn’t mean he was a murderer. Even if he was giving Akira the most deadpan look from behind his mask. The cognitive employee behind the table seemed to find them amusing, at least, because he offered the dice to Akechi with a crooked smile.

“Oh for heaven’s sake…!” Akechi said, clearly exasperated. He leaned forward and blew on the dice, and Akira laid down his and Akechi’s twenty coins.

“Let’s do this.”

***

It was a surprisingly productive day in the Casino. They went home at the end with a brand-new high-limit floor pass, courtesy of the combined efforts of the Thieves winning their games and Futaba hacking the big slot machine. Akira and Akechi had been forced to abandon the dice table after one too many big wins, but Ann and Ryuji had done surprisingly well at roulette, Makoto, Futaba, and Morgana had pulled off a win on the smaller slot machines, and Yusuke and Haru, much to everyone’s surprise, had cleaned out the poker tables.

“I know how to play poker, and Yusuke was observant enough to figure out how the dealers were counting cards,” Haru explained on the way out. “So we had a bit of luck on our side.”

It seemed like the high-limit floor was going to be the last one before the manager’s floor, so they were expecting a challenge, but Futaba went home content in the knowledge that there was plenty of time left to solve any remaining puzzles. The Thieves were going to be unstoppable, clear their names, and track down the final boss!

As she hopped into her computer chair, the indicator that she’d added to Akechi’s phone beeped at her, letting her know he was making a phone call. The recording program kicked on automatically, and she pulled on her headphones to listen in. Hopefully this one wasn’t full of boring legal jargon. It was amazing how dull things could be when you could only hear one half of the conversation.

 _”Sir, it’s me.”_ A pause. _”Yes, sir. We entered the Casino today, and made a significant amount of progress.”_

Futaba’s eyes widened. He was talking about the Casino? This had to be it!

_”Yes, there shouldn’t be any trouble bringing in a squad of officers. I’ll ensure the card is sent on a specific day, so that we can be ready.”_

Akechi was trying to _get them arrested_. What kind of slimy traitor did that, after they’d welcomed him onto the team? But that was fine. If they knew the trap was coming, there would be a way out.

 _”Yes, sir. But, ah, about the rest of the plan…”_ Akechi’s voice sounded less confident all of a sudden. _”I know, sir. The staged suicide.”_

Futaba gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth. She stared at the recording program’s waveform in horror as Akechi kept talking.

 _”No, no, I’m not questioning your decision, sir. Of course not. I’m prepared to do what must be done.”_ His voice was placating now, but some of the life had drained from it. _”Yes. The leader will die, seemingly by his own hand, and things will end as we cut off the head of the snake.”_ A pause. _”Understood, sir._

There was a click from Akechi hanging up, and Futaba ripped her headphones off. “No!” He was going to kill Akira.

He was going to _kill_ Akira…!

“Futaba?” Sojiro poked his head in the door curiously. “Is everything okay?”

She took a deep breath. There was no way she could tell Sojiro. He would freak out, and they couldn’t stop now, not with Niijima-san _and_ Akechi to deal with. “Yeah, sorry. My show, there was this bit with the bad guy…”

Sojiro shrugged. “Okay. Just checking.” He headed back to his room, and Futaba reached for the keyboard and began to transfer the recording to her phone. This had gone on long enough. Akira needed to hear this. Everyone needed to hear this. They had to figure out what to do.

***

With Morgana safely with Haru for the evening, probably eating his weight in fancy sushi, Akira had stopped in Shibuya with Ann to get crepes.

“Morgana thinks I don’t look like a ‘crepe person’, can you believe it?” he asked, and Ann eyed the tower of ice cream and cheesecake ascending from his crepe with mock seriousness.

“I don’t know, Akira, if you were a true crepe connoisseur you’d have added whipped cream,” she said, nodding sagely.

“It covers up the flavor of the chocolate syrup!” he complained, taking a giant bite, and she giggled at him.

“Morgana doesn’t know what he’s missing,” she said cheerfully, taking a bite of her own crepe. But once they’d wandered back to the Scramble and found a place to sit, she leaned close, free hand creeping around his arm like a trap. “Soooo, how are things with Akechi-kun?”

Akira choked on a bite of ice cream. None of his friends had actually mentioned anything about him seeing Akechi so far, so he felt a little blindsided. “G-Good? We’re good.” This would be the ideal time to tell someone about that text, about what he was afraid of. Ann, of all his friends, wouldn’t judge him. But he couldn’t seem to get the words from his brain to his tongue, so he just smiled and wiped melted ice cream from his chin. “Goro’s still getting there in terms of opening up, but I feel like… I feel like we’re getting closer, even though I don’t know all of him yet.”

Ann’s blue eyes felt like they were looking right through him when he met her gaze. “Akira…” she said, very slowly. “This is all real for you, isn’t it?”

“Hm?” What did that mean? Real? Of course everything was real; it wasn’t like their lives were some sort of game. The fact that the police were after them was enough proof of that. But before he could get her to clarify what she meant, his phone and Ann’s buzzed at the same time, and he pulled his out to check it. “It’s Futaba.”

“She wants everyone to meet tomorrow?” Ann said. “I thought we weren’t going back to the Palace until Sunday.”

“...it’s the chat without Goro,” Akira said, very softly. Dread settled heavily over his shoulders like a blanket, and he mechanically texted back a confirmation to meet after school. “I guess we should see what she wants.”

Ann frowned, leaning over to try to see his expression. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just surprised.” He took another bite of his crepe, flashing her what he hoped was a convincing smile.

His appetite was gone, though. He had a terrible feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fucking god it’s finally November. We have escaped the unending clutches of October at last. Thank goodness. That said, most of this is a giant love letter to the Casino as the best dungeon, plus some probably-unnecessary references to other things. XD
> 
> I’m taking a little bit of liberty with how the Casino is laid out and what’s actually there just for the sake of not rehashing the game, and also because I wanted to let them play some actual games, not just rig everything in their favor. Do you know how many hours I wasted on the dice games in Golden Sun, or the poker minigame in Tales of Xillia 2? Let me play blackjack, P5! Let me destroy myself at the dice tables! I can just game-over and reset the day if I fuck it up too badly, right?
> 
> Next chapter: Akira can ignore a lot of things, explain away a lot of things, but there are a few things that just can’t be left on their own. That’s not going to stop him from carrying on, though, because sometimes even the most blatant confession can still be a step away from the whole truth...


	34. November 3rd, 2016

Akira was going to ban Makoto from recording devices. Just a blanket ban. No audio recordings were to be allowed anywhere near Makoto at all, because every time she played a recording in his presence, it was something bad.

Nevermind that Futaba had sent her the recording in the first place. Details were unimportant. Akira was upset and that took precedence over logic for the next thirty-seven seconds, at least.

“What did you two do?” he said flatly.

“We bugged Akechi’s phone,” Futaba said, at the same time that Makoto said urgently, “Akira-kun, did you hear what he said?”

“I _heard_ what he said,” Akira managed through gritted teeth. “I want to know why you didn’t discuss this with the rest of the team first.”

“We didn’t want to interfere with anyone else until we were sure,” Makoto said. “If he was dangerous, we didn’t want anyone acting any different around him and tipping him off.”

Ryuji nudged Ann, who smacked him harder than usual out of agitation. The Thieves were panicking, sick with the knowledge that one of their own was apparently planning to kill their leader.

“I can’t believe this,” Ann said. “He did Okumura’s Palace with us. He wants to help Niijima-san.” She was looking at Akira worriedly, but he was looking down at his hands, saying nothing. “I know we were suspicious of him to start with, but I wasn’t expecting _this_.”

“Doesn’t this mean he lied about his persona, then?” Ryuji exclaimed.

“What are we going to do?” Haru asked. “If we know he intends to have us arrested, we can figure out an escape route ahead of time, right?”

Yusuke shook his head. “Even if we do, will that be enough? Akechi knows our identities; there is nothing stopping him from continuing to come after us even if we escape this time. Especially if he is ordered by the person he works for.”

It had never occurred to any of them how dangerous it could be, to be betrayed by a teammate. They’d all figured that someone running to the police with tales of the Phantom Thieves wouldn’t be believed, or that any investigation would go nowhere without evidence of the metaverse. But now, with a murder charge looming like a guillotine’s blade and a traitor working for someone with what sounded like full knowledge of the metaverse, with an intent to kill rather than prosecute… How did they escape from that?

“So the only way he’ll stop coming after us is if we’re dead?” Morgana yowled, distressed, and Haru picked him up to settle him in her lap.

All of them fell silent, no one wanting to add the obvious _or if he’s dead_. Akira continued to stare at his hands, turning his distress inwards instead of lashing out. He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. But combined with the text implying Akechi had gotten his persona after June, there was too much piling up, and it was very hard to deny his boyfriend’s voice clearly stating that the plan was to murder him. He _could_ make more excuses: a trick, a trap, Akechi was trying to find their enemy without telling the rest of them, to keep them from being in danger… Futaba and Makoto had done it, after all. But no. The tone was too clipped, too professional. This was something Akechi had done before.

It was looking more and more like Akechi was the murderer. Like Akechi was Black Mask.

Akira was wondering how it was possible to not care and also feel like the world was ending.

“I have an idea,” Makoto said, after a long time. “Futaba-chan, could you use that bug on Akechi’s phone to activate the meta-nav remotely?”

“What, and like, dump him into the metaverse?” Futaba asked. “Yeah, it’s possible. I can’t hack the nav directly, but if I could set up some kind of bookmark function, it’ll be a piece of cake.” She suddenly sat up, almost kneeing Yusuke in the ribs, and said quickly, “Oh, I get it! We let him kill Niijima-san’s cognitive version of Akira!”

“Exactly,” Makoto said. “The people in Sis’s Palace all look normal. If a cognitive version of Akira-kun were to appear, he wouldn’t look any different than he does in reality. Akechi wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, and they’d leave us alone because they’d think Akira-kun is dead.”

“We would hope, anyway,” Haru said quietly. “But Akechi-kun plans to act after the arrest. How do we replace Akira-kun with a cognitive if he’s been arrested?”

“The police precinct was part of the scope of her Palace, and it looked normal enough…” Futaba said. “If she sees Akira in an interrogation room, a cognitive version would appear, too. So we’d just have to trick Akechi into entering the metaverse while he’s there.”

“But then he’d still be arrested! How do we get him out after?” Ryuji demanded.

They talked it over for a long time, throwing out ideas and getting increasingly agitated as Futaba tested her bug on Akechi’s phone and realized she couldn’t set a bookmark with it. It functioned only as eyes and ears, not hands, which no one faulted her for because she couldn’t have known they’d need to activate his phone remotely. In the end, they had a plan, but no one was particularly enthusiastic.

“Yusuke and I will go check the cognitive precinct tomorrow, then,” Ann said uncertainly. “If it’s a perfect duplicate, we’re good to go, right?”

Makoto nodded. “Right. My sister will head the interrogation, so after that it’s just up to Akira-kun.”

Akira had been quiet, only offering responses when questioned directly, and Morgana jumped into his lap, startling him from his thoughts. “Hey? Are you okay with all of this?”

“We have to, right?” he said, trying for Joker’s usual carefree tone. “I can handle this.”

“Dude, if you can’t convince Makoto’s sister, you’re gonna get shot,” Ryuji said worriedly. “Are you sure?”

Akira grinned. “I’m the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Of course I can do this.” The smile felt like it was straining his face, but he held it, determined to keep them from worrying. None of them needed to know how hard this was hitting him. It would just be a distraction, and it was his fault for getting so attached to Akechi despite knowing that he was suspicious.

Fortunately, no one questioned him further, and they made plans to get in touch to confirm whether the precinct would work the following afternoon. Everyone trailed out of Leblanc, but Ann and Futaba hung back, chatting with Sojiro and clearly waiting for Akira to pay attention to them.

“What?” Akira asked at last, exasperated. He’d tried to pull out the crossword, but they were hovering, and he really didn’t want to do this right now.

“Akira,” Ann began, but the bell over the door chimed, and she stopped with a little yelp when she looked over to see who it was.

“I’m sorry,” Akechi said tentatively. “Am I...interrupting?”

Ann grabbed Morgana off the stool beside Akira, ignoring his protests at being manhandled. “Nope! We were just heading out. C’mon, Futaba, weren’t you going to show me that website with the cool shoes?” She kept a tight grip on Morgana and grabbed Futaba with the other hand, dragging them both out of the cafe and leaving a confused Sojiro and Akechi in their wake.

“That was a bit odd,” Akechi said. “Is everything okay?”

Akira stared into maroon eyes that were soft with concern, and nodded. “Yeah. Ann’s just being weird.” It was stupid, and foolish, but standing here face-to-face with Akechi, he found himself thinking that he didn’t _care_ what Akechi was or wasn’t planning. He was still Akechi, and Akira was still hopelessly smitten. “You usually text when you’re coming by. I didn’t get a chance to start your coffee ahead of time.”

Akechi didn’t have his usual briefcase, Akira noticed, and when he spoke, it was more subdued than usual. “I apologize. Today has been...stressful. I just wanted to see you.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” Sojiro had disappeared into the kitchen, so Akira stepped forward, kissing Akechi’s cheek. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

“That would be nice,” Akechi murmured.

Akira looked him up and down critically. “All right, but we’ve got to do something about that outfit first. Being bothered as the ‘Detective Prince’ won’t help with your stress levels at all.”

“Hm?” But before Akechi could react, Akira was already dragging him up the stairs.

***

“I look ridiculous.”

“You look hot. And it’s working. Nobody recognizes ‘Akechi Goro’ in that outfit.”

Akechi looked down at himself. He was wearing a set of Akira’s clothes: white pants and red boots with a red hoodie covered in gold stars. It was much more trendy than his usual, and Akira had plopped a hat on his head that read ‘HERO’ across the front of it, trying not to choke on his own brand of black humor. When you just found out a few hours ago that your boyfriend was an assassin that was going to kill you, you did what you could.

“I suppose…” Akechi said. “And I take some consolation from the fact that your outfit is just as ridiculous.”

Akira was wearing the opposite, black pants and sleeves and a red bandanna with a white shirt with stars overtop. “I happen to like my star shirts, thank you. I made a special trip to the planetarium to get these with one of my bartending paychecks because I didn’t have enough space clothes.” He grinned, a much more genuine one than he’d shown his friends. “Besides, I like seeing you in my clothes. And I can do this.” He grabbed the sides of the hood and tugged Akechi in for a kiss, muffling his flustered yelp with his lips. When he pulled away, Akechi was bright red to match the hoodie.

They ended up getting ramen in Ogikubo and then wandering around Shinjuku as it grew later. Everything glowed in a haze of neon color, and Akira slipped his hand into Akechi’s. “Are you sure you’re doing okay? You’ve been quieter than usual.”

They found a bench near the entrance to Crossroads, and Akechi sighed as Akira flopped down beside him. “There’s...a deadline coming up at work, for a difficult assignment, and I’m not looking forward to it,” he said slowly. “But it’s nothing that I won’t be able to handle. I just have to find the proper mindset.”

“Sounds like you’d rather not do it at all,” Akira said casually, though he’d felt his breath catch at the words. Not looking forward to it? “Can’t you pawn it off on a coworker or something? Claim you have school.”

Akechi stared at him, his expression frozen for a moment, and then he laughed softly. “Much as I appreciate your concern, Akira, this is something I should do myself. As much as I would prefer not to.”

“Sometimes it seems like you have to do a lot of things you’d rather not.” Akira leaned into him, tucking his head against Akechi’s neck, beneath his chin. “I wish I could help with some of your stress.” Maybe… Akechi didn’t want to do this. Maybe he was in trouble; maybe they could talk to him, get through to him, find a way to help him… It was a tiny, fragile hope, but it was _something_ , and it was more than he’d had when they left Leblanc.

He barely heard Akechi whisper, “This is helping,” before the detective wrapped an arm around him, resting his chin in Akira’s unruly hair. Quiet fell as they watched people roaming up and down the streets, in and out of bars and around the different shops.

As much as Akira hated to move, he eventually checked his phone for the time and nudged Akechi gently. “Hey, we should probably go,” he said. “The last movie of the night’s about to let out, and this place will be overrun.”

Akechi pushed himself to his feet and stretched, but then hesitated. “Would you…” he began, sounding almost nervous. “Would you...come back to my apartment? I can’t talk about my work, but I would prefer not to be alone right now.”

It had clearly taken effort for him to even ask, and Akira hated that his second thought, after the initial ‘yes’, was to remind himself that there was a plan, a certain day set, and that Akechi wasn’t going to shoot him in his living room. “Of course. I might have to leave early; it’s a school night and I don’t have my uniform with me…”

“That’s okay. I just… Thank you, Akira.” Akechi smiled weakly, and Akira grabbed his arm.

“Hey, I get to see where you live. This is an adventure for me!”

“It’s really not that impressive…”

They got back on the loop train to Yoyogi, where Akechi showed him to a moderately-sized apartment. Akira kicked his shoes off in the entryway and followed him in, looking around. “Being a detective must pay well,” he commented.

When he looked up, Akechi was wearing his TV smile. “Yes, I suppose so…”

Akira took a closer look around the room, and slowly came to realize that for all the space the apartment had, it was very bare. Akechi had basic furniture, a TV… There were dishes in the sink in the kitchen… Someone lived here, but it wasn’t a home. There were no decorations, no pictures on the wall, no personal touches that would make it seem warmer or inviting. No wonder Akechi didn’t want to be alone, if he was as anxious as Akira thought he was.

Something was wrong with Akechi Goro, and everything he’d said and this apartment were just feeding Akira’s feeling that he was right, that there was something going on beyond ‘Akechi is planning to kill you’. Of course, it could all also be an act, to keep Akira dancing along until that moment of painful betrayal. How good an actor was Akechi?

Whatever. If he was going to die or lose Akechi, he would steal as much of a good thing as he could get away with. As they got ready for bed, he stole a pair of Akechi’s sleep pants, skipping a shirt and marvelling at how normal the routine felt even though he had never been here.

When Akechi came out of the bathroom and spotted Akira sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through something on his phone without a shirt, he squeaked so loud that Akira actually looked up with concern. “Hm?”

“You, uh...didn’t want to borrow a shirt?” Akechi managed.

Akira winked. “It’s warmer in here than in my attic. I might combust, especially curled up with another person.”

Akechi hesitated, then seemed to take the entire situation as a challenge, tugging his own t-shirt over his head and walking over to stare down at Akira. “Well? We should get to bed, especially if you’re getting up early.”

Akechi’s double bed was bigger than his futon in Leblanc, but Akira still snuggled in under the blankets, relishing the new feeling of much more skin contact. Akechi cut off the light, then rolled over and tugged Akira more firmly against him.

It shouldn’t be so easy, to lean in and kiss someone that was supposedly going to murder him. But Akechi’s lips and and hands were soft, and Akira let himself sink into the touches as Akechi’s fingers pressed along his spine, coaxing him close.

He considered briefly that this might be going somewhere interesting, because there was a desperation to Akechi’s kisses that he’d never seen before. But Akechi pulled away with a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against Akira’s. “We should sleep,” he murmured.

“You sound like Morgana,” Akira chuckled. His fingers carded through Akechi’s hair, and he pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You really want to sleep now?”

Akechi shivered, and Akira felt his fingers grip just a bit harder against his back. “We should,” he repeated hesitantly.

Akira hummed. “When was the last time we did something we should?” he asked, and Akechi laughed.

“That’s fair, but…” He paused to press a chaste kiss to Akira’s lips, then finished, “Not tonight, okay? Please stop being so tempting.”

“All right, all right,” Akira said, grinning, and he settled comfortably atop Akechi, letting his eyes fall shut. “Next time, though…”

He could hear Akechi’s heart beating, quick with nervousness or lingering from making out with him, and then the detective’s hand ran through his hair and he practically melted with contentment. Akechi took a deep breath, and then said softly, “Next time, Akira.”

Akira smiled. “Good night, Goro.”

The last thing he remembered before dozing off was thinking that ‘next time’ was a greater variable than it should be. He hadn’t been looking at Akechi’s face; he couldn’t parse the honesty of it. Was it a hint that his instinct was correct, that Akechi didn’t want to do this? Or was it a hollow promise, just another step in a deceit that would lead to his death? Akira didn’t know, but right now, warm and secure beneath Akechi’s blankets, he didn’t particularly care.

If this was all he could have for now, he would take it.

***

Despite his insistence on sleep, Goro was finding it hard to drift off.

Akira was warm in his arms, snuggled close with his head pillowed on Goro’s chest. He was always warm like this. Soft. Vulnerable. Goro was torn between affection and disgust.

For the leader of the Phantom Thieves, Akira was far too trusting. If there wasn’t a plan already in place, working towards the inevitable end, Goro could kill him right now. His fingertips slipped up Akira’s side, following the bumps of his ribs beneath his skin until he found where his heartbeat was strongest. One of Akira’s precious knives just there, slid between the bones; he could watch Akira bleed out, maybe without ever waking up. Maybe without knowing what Goro had done to him.

But that would be too kind of the world, to grant Goro that kind of mercy. Akira would die knowing that Goro had pulled the trigger, and Goro pretended that the nausea he felt at that thought was just because he’d never killed someone in reality before, not because his target was Akira.

_Why do you lie to yourself?_ Robin Hood murmured.

_Why do you waste sentiment on someone who would betray you in the end?_ Loki said lowly.

Goro shook his head, just a tiny movement, and ran his fingers gently through the silk of Akira’s hair. Akira sighed contentedly, pressing closer, and Goro closed his eyes. In the end, neither of their feelings mattered. Whether Akira was doing this for a reason, or whether Akira actually cared for him, none of it mattered. Akira wouldn’t care for the version of him under the mask, in the end, and Goro would ensure that end would never come. But it still stung, just a little.

Fate, Akira had said, had brought them together, and that was true enough. Fate had given him Kurusu Akira as an opponent, so proclaimed the voice in his dreams, and it was the cruelest torment that could have been placed on him, because Goro had stupidly, stupidly grown attached and now Fate was going to take him away again.

If he could just stay here in this moment, forever, things would be fine. But that was impossible.

“Idiot,” he whispered, his voice both fond and breaking. “Why didn’t you stop when I warned you? Why did you do this to me…?”

There was no answer, just a very quiet snore, and Goro laughed softly. Someone like him didn’t deserve someone like Akira anyway. Their Joker entranced everyone he met without even trying. He was lucky. He was _perfect_ , and no matter how much Goro liked him, he almost hated him for it, too.

In the end, this was for the best. He just had to keep telling himself that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **RANK UP**  
>  **CONFIDANTE AKIRA KURUSU/GORO AKECHI**  
>  **FOOL/JUSTICE RANK 9**
> 
> Akira: [“It’s a thrill I can’t shake; I know we’ve been writing a mistake…”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFqtD_1Fk5w)  
>  Akechi: [“I beg, I plead, the gods to freeze time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFeqGF6hwng); [I could not bring myself to this crime…”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vvq2Kgjt0Ks)  
>  To each other: “Why are you like this?”
> 
> In which Akira borrows his boyfriend’s coping mindset, just for a little while. Poor Fool, in love with Judas… This chapter was the breath before a scream.
> 
> This really is the worst plan. The more I tried to look into the game to figure out how, exactly, they came up with this bullshit, the more questions I had. In this case, though, I can at least brush it off with, “Akira’s not really in a mindset to come up with anything better.”
> 
> Next chapter: It’s Sunday, and it’s time for the meeting before we head up to the High-Limit floor! There’s a Palace to do, despite some new, er, _tensions_ among the group. And what a lot there is to do, actually. Next chapter is over double-length, so, uh...brace yourselves?


	35. November 6th, 2016

Akira woke up Sunday morning to Futaba perching herself on the end of his bed, looking morose.

“Futaba?” Morgana questioned as he stirred, and Akira envied his ability to be able to summon up words when he’d just been woken up.

“Sojiro let me in,” Futaba said, and there was an edge to her voice that Akira hadn’t heard in a while. She was afraid.

Morgana rubbed at his face with a paw. “You really shouldn’t just barge into a guy’s bedroom like that.”

He had a point, but Akira reached over and deliberately petted him, distracting him long enough to allow Akira to sit up, rub his eyes, and focus. Shoving his pillows back so he could lean on them, he patted the spot beside him, safely between him and the wall. When Futaba had crawled up and made herself comfortable next to him, he ran his hand down her back and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Futaba leaned against his shoulder and said in a tiny voice, “I don’t want to do this plan, Akira.”

“Hm?” His hand paused at her shoulderblades, and he shifted to look down at her. “What do you mean? Do you not think it’ll work?”

“It should,” Futaba said sadly, and Morgana padded up beside them to hear better, as well. “I know my coding will work. And I know you’re the best of us to go in there. But I don’t trust Makoto’s sister. Niijima-san’s Palace is because her desire to catch us distorted into doing whatever it takes, but even if we could steal her Treasure, she’s still a prosecutor. It wouldn’t take away her desire to catch us completely. But we can’t even do that, because the Palace still has to be standing. And if she doesn’t get you out of there…” She buried her face against his chest, and Akira stared at the faint glow of the stars on his ceiling.

“I don’t want to do this either,” he admitted, his voice hitching slightly. “Not because I’m scared, but…”

“Because of Akechi, right?” Futaba asked quietly.

Akira sighed. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry this is happening,” Futaba said, and to his surprise, she started to tear up. “I don’t want it to be him either. He’s a dumb nerd, but I kind of liked having him around. And if he’s Black Mask…”

Akira tightened his arm around her instinctively. He hadn’t connected that last dot, yet. The murderer had killed Futaba’s mother, and she’d been on good terms with Akechi for weeks. He could only imagine what she was feeling. “It’ll be okay, Futaba.”

“It won’t!” she cried, startling him and Morgana. “The more I think about this plan, the more I realize that everything comes down to something we don’t have control over! I can’t lose you, too, ‘Kira. I can’t! I won’t recover this time!”

“Futaba…” Morgana climbed over Akira to settle in her lap, and she squeezed him, still hiding against Akira’s chest. He looked up at Akira worriedly. “It’s the only plan we’ve got. What can we do differently?”

“There’s three hours before the others get here,” Akira said. “We’ll ask them to come an hour early, without Goro, and we’ll lay out all of what we’re worried about.” He ran a hand through Futaba’s hair comfortingly. “We could always just talk to him. Confront him about what we know, and see what he does.”

“Do you really think that will work?” Morgana said skeptically.

“It can’t make things worse. He’s already planning to kill me,” Akira said flatly. “And… the other night, when I spent time with him… It really seemed like he doesn’t want to do this.” He gently roused Futaba to sit up, making her meet his eyes. “I’m not going to die, Futaba, I promise.” He rested his hand on top of her head reassuringly. “Now, let’s figure out what’s not good about this plan, so we have some solid points to present to Makoto and the others.”

Futaba sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, and nodded.

***

When they called the meeting early, Makoto arrived first, ascending to the attic in a storm of questions that Akira flatly refused to answer until everyone was present. She had equally as little luck with Futaba, who was completely engrossed in something on her laptop, or Morgana, who was sitting beside the computer and watching the screen curiously. And so she was forced to wait as the other Thieves trailed in one at a time, Ann and Ryuji bringing up the rear. Once everyone had found a seat, they all looked around, puzzled.

“Okay, so why are we here like an hour early?” Ann complained, flopped on one side of the couch with her legs across Yusuke’s lap. “And where’s Akechi? Did anybody let him know the time changed? Or is this about the plan?”

“It’s about the plan. Didn’t you read the whole message?” Makoto said, glancing at Futaba, who was still perched on a chair beside the table, tapping away on her laptop. The other Thieves exchanged confused looks, but Makoto just gestured at their hacker. “Futaba, you have the floor.”

Futaba took a deep breath, looking at Akira, who nodded encouragingly. She closed her laptop, sat up straight, and looked around at them all. “I thought it over, and this is a bad plan.”

Haru frowned. “What do you mean? The plan to fake Akira-kun’s death?”

“Yeah, that,” Futaba said. “It’s not good. It sounds good, but the most important variable in the whole plan is the one that we can’t control, and that makes it majorly unstable. It’s gonna collapse faster than sand in Minebuilder if we don’t figure out something better.”

“What’s that mean, variable?” Ryuji asked. “What variable are you talking about?”

“Niijima-san,” Futaba said bluntly. “Niijima-san is the one thing we can’t control. My tech will work fine. I can send Akechi into the metaverse, no problem. As long as he actually gets near the phone. But that depends completely on Niijima-san, and I don’t like entrusting Akira’s safety to the hands of someone that wants us locked up for murder. If she doesn’t believe his story and doesn’t take the phone, ‘Kira’s dead. If she takes the phone but doesn’t stop to talk to Akechi, ‘Kira’s dead. If the timing is off and Akechi doesn’t show up as she’s leaving, _’Kira’s dead_. We’re placing a lot of risk on her believing in us without changing her heart, and then being willing to get him out of there afterwards.”

“I’m sure we can get through to Sis--” Makoto began, but Futaba shook her head.

“That’s not even everything. If she sees Akechi in the precinct, it could spawn another cognitive version as well. If the real one runs into that, Game Over, Do Not Press R to Retry. If we make her suspicious enough of Akechi in the precinct to show him the phone, the Palace could force him into his thief gear when I send him over. Murdered by giant cherries, game over, no save points on Impossible Mode.” Futaba looked around at them all. “Do you see what I mean? Niijima-san’s the key, here, and we have _no control_ of how she reacts to anything during that interrogation. Ryuji called it a fifty-fifty chance of ‘Kira getting shot in the head, but with everything that could go wrong, the odds aren’t even at all.”

“What are we to do, then?” Yusuke asked. “There don’t seem to be other options for avoiding a messy ending other than tricking Akechi into killing a duplicate.”

Futaba looked over at Akira, who forced himself to meet his friends’ eyes when they looked over as well. She had been brave, she had spoken up, so he could do the same, even if he was spinning his phone anxiously in his fingers at the same time. “We talk to Goro. We confront him about what we know. Best-case scenario, there’s something we don’t understand yet going on. Worse-case...we can find a way to take him out of the game. If he’s the only metaverse-user that the person he’s working for has access to, we’re safe from ambushes in the metaverse after that.”

“That’s not a much better plan than the other…” Haru said tentatively. “We have no idea where Akechi-kun’s mental state is, or how to contain him if he’s our enemy.”

“It’s taking direct action against the problem instead of dancing around it,” Akira said. “And no offense, but I’d really rather not get shot.”

“Well, of course not,” Makoto said reluctantly.

“We’ll take a vote,” Ann said. “That’s how we work, right? So, all in favor of confronting Akechi directly, hands up.”

Everyone’s hands went up. Some slower than others, but it was unanimous in the end, and Akira actually managed a smile. Any plan that didn’t involve getting shot was an improvement. “Okay. So, when Goro gets here, we ask him about what we heard, and we get ready to act if we have to.”

“All right...” The murmured agreement was reluctant from some of them, but Akira was optimistic. There were a lot less variables like this. Everything would be okay.

***

They didn’t have to wait long after that. At exactly five minutes before the original meeting time, they heard Akechi greeting Sojiro downstairs, and then making his way up to the attic.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I late?” Akechi asked, looking around at all of them already sprawled around the attic. He toed off his shoes and set his bag in the pile by the stairs.

Akira smiled, waving him over to sit with him on the bed. “Nah, we were early. None of these people have anything important to do, so they just lurk in my attic.” He hummed contentedly when Akechi came over to settle beside him, wrapping his arm around him and feeling a stab of regret. There was no good way to do this, but it was the only way left that he could think of that didn’t involve more danger than necessary.

“So…” Akechi said, leaning his head on Akira’s shoulder. He’d gotten much more comfortable with casual affection during his time with the Thieves. Or at least, he pretended he had. “We need to figure out what we’re doing about the next floor of the casino, right? The games will probably be much harder this time.”

“Actually, Akechi-kun, there’s something we need to ask you about,” Makoto said, and if Akira didn’t know her so well he’d think she sounded normal.

“Oh? What is it?”

It was Haru who spoke up, quiet, but with weight to her words. “You’re...not entirely one of us, are you, Akechi-kun?” she asked softly. “There’s something you haven’t told us.”

Akechi’s expression didn’t change, but Akira felt him tense up, and his heart sank. Akechi laughed, and it was clearly a television laugh, at least to Akira, who’d heard his real laughter enough now to tell the difference effortlessly. “Something I haven’t told you? I’m not sure I know what you could be referring to. Have I done something wrong?”

Ryuji, who’d been leaning back in his chair lazily, thumped the chair legs back onto the floor. “No point in playing dumb, dude. We heard you.”

“Heard me…?” There was a waver in Akechi’s voice, and somewhere along the way his fingers had twisted themselves into the hem of Akira’s blazer in an anxious tangle. “What do you mean, heard me?”

“I bugged your phone,” Futaba said bluntly, deciding to just get it out there. “You were talking to someone about setting us up, after the Casino. Talking to someone about… About…” 

She trailed off, biting her lip, and Ann blurted, “You were talking about killing our leader!”

“Which doesn’t make sense, because you have seemed as though you care for him,” Yusuke added, gaze fixed on how even now Akechi hadn’t moved from where he was pressed against Akira’s side.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Morgana demanded.

Akira hadn’t said anything, and Akechi pulled away from him at last, looking at him with eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. “You bugged my phone?”

“I didn’t know until the other day,” Akira said quietly. “Goro… You lied about when you first accessed the metaverse, and there were a few things that don’t add up. Makoto got suspicious and asked Futaba to listen in.”

Akechi stumbled backwards, away from the futon and out of reach of Akira’s hands. “You’ve never trusted me, then. I knew it; all of it was some elaborate act to keep an eye on me. _None of this_ meant anything to you!”

“Do you really get to be upset about that when you were gonna kill him?!” Ryuji shouted, before Akira could respond.

“I…” Akechi flinched, and then in one quick motion turned and ran, taking the stairs two at a time. The Thieves lunged after him, but managed to bottleneck themselves at the top of the stairs, leaving only Morgana to pursue the fleeing boy through Leblanc. 

When Akira managed to get downstairs, both cat and detective were gone. There was only a very confused Sojiro standing at the counter. “Akechi sprinted out of here without any shoes,” he said, sounding like he wasn’t sure what he’d seen. “What are you kids _doing?_ You were yelling about killing…?” 

Akira swallowed hard and headed for the door, barely hearing Makoto apologizing to Sojiro somewhere behind him. What was he supposed to say? They’d confronted Akechi about trying to kill him, and he’d panicked and run off? That would go over well.

Once they were outside, Morgana raced up to them. “He headed for the station and vanished! I think he went into Mementos!”

“We have to go after him,” Akira said urgently.

“Yes. If he gets away, he’s going to go right to whoever he’s working for,” Makoto added.

That wasn’t the primary reason why Akira wanted to go after him, but he nodded along mechanically, reaching for his phone.

“I can’t believe he had the nerve to get snippy about you fake-dating him when he’s been going around plotting to shoot you!” Ryuji huffed.

Akira hesitated, phone forgotten as anxiety twisted around his heart. Fake? Was that what they thought? Was that why no one had objected? “Ryuji… I wasn’t fake dating him.”

Ryuji raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah, you were? We’ve all seen you, dude.”

Futaba coughed awkwardly, and Akira bit his lip, looking at the ground. “I wasn’t _fake_ dating him.”

“Why are you being so-- Oh. W-Wha-- Dude?!”

Everyone stared at him with a range of expressions from pity to horror, and he seriously wished that the street would just swallow him up into Mementos right now so he didn’t have to deal with this.

“Akira-kun!” Makoto burst out. “Even if he wasn’t plotting to murder you, he was still suspicious, and the detective trying to catch us! Why would you fall for someone like that?”

“It’s not like I sat down and decided ‘hey, I think I’ll have feelings for Akechi’,” Akira said, already feeling defensive. “What about you? Did all of you seriously just assume I was leading him on for information?”

“Mona-chan said that was what you were doing, and it… It seemed like a prudent strategy to keep him from revealing our identities, if he had that sort of tie to us,” Haru said tentatively.

Akira stared at them, taking a small step back. “I can’t believe that you thought I’d mess with someone’s feelings just to use them as protection. Morgana, I can’t believe you told them that… I can’t believe none of you asked me what was going on!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually want to date him!” Morgana yelped.

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” Ryuji said. “How were we supposed to know you weren’t pretending?”

“That right!” Makoto said sharply. “If your feelings were compromised, we needed to figure out a different plan. But you didn’t tell us the truth.”

Feeling ill, Akira murmured, “Compromised…?” He knew she had a point. He was the leader, and if Akechi was plotting to end them, it was his responsibility to keep his team safe. But he was allowed to be a little selfish, wasn’t he? Did he have to choose between them and Akechi? Why couldn’t he have them both? Akechi wasn’t a lost cause. He was sure of it.

Makoto had always, at odd moments, reminded him of his mother. He could feel it now, that instinctive urge to run away, to swallow down his words and be quiet and let things play out. To avoid a fight at all costs, when things became fight or flight like this. But before he could stop himself, he said bitterly, “This is why I didn’t tell you. Because you’re acting like this. If I had told all of you that I actually like him, that I enjoy spending time with him, you would have done exactly this. You would have expected me to break things off immediately, and _I don’t want to._ ”

“Akira-kun, he wants to murder you,” Makoto hissed, mindful of the fact that they were standing in the middle of the street.

“No he _doesn’t_ ,” Akira snarled. “I talked to him that night. He flat-out told me that he had something coming up that he doesn’t want to do. That’s this, I know it is.”

“He could have just been telling you that,” Makoto countered.

“He didn’t know that we were onto him! He wouldn’t have had a reason to lie!” Akira could feel his grasp on the situation slipping, and Arsène settled around his mind, his deep voice soothing.

_Be mindful, my thief. They are frightened, and they are worried for you. That is the root of their words. They do not mean to hurt you._

Akira took a deep breath. “Either way, we have to go after him. We can talk about this later.” He pulled out his phone and started towards Yongen-Jaya station, leaving his team to trail anxiously behind him.

***

They eventually found Akechi on the last floor of Aiyatsbus.

He didn’t move when they ventured down the escalator. He just stared at the floor with shaking shoulders and a haunted expression.

“Goro,” Akira began, but Akechi laughed hollowly.

“I was exaggerating, you know,” he said, his voice deceptively light. “About you never trusting me. But it turns out that I was right. I thought back over every interaction, wondering what I could have done to make you suspicious of me, wondering where I went wrong. And I realized that I ruined it all right at the beginning.” He lifted a shaking hand to point at Morgana, and spat bitterly, “It was _your_ voice, the very first time. _Pancakes._ ” A wide grin split his face, but there was no glee in it. “I didn’t think there was any way I could have messed up when all I did was introduce myself to the potential Phantom Thieves. But I couldn’t possibly have foreseen the existence of a shadow outside of the metaverse.”

“I’m not a shadow,” Morgana growled. “I’m human!”

“So you say,” Akechi said carelessly. “But it doesn’t matter. You’ve all known from the start, and you just strung me along. It’s almost impressive!”

“We didn’t know for sure,” Akira said quietly. “I didn’t suspect you until the other day. We didn’t know anything concrete until we overheard that phone call.”

“Why are you doing this?” Makoto asked. “Why are you working for someone that makes you kill people?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Akechi said. “How could you? You have no idea what my life has been like. You never bothered to ask, when you were dragging me around Destinyland and making nice and pretending you cared.”

“So tell us!” Ann cried. “There has to be some reason you would do this, even though you’ve been spending all that time with us.”

“Now you want to know, now that I‘m a threat.” Akechi laughed. He looked from one to the next, until he finally met Akira’s eyes. “Fine, fine. Let me tell you. I’ve done everything I can to make sure my grades and my life and my reputation are as perfect as possible, so that adults will take me seriously. Because that’s the only way that anyone will want to keep me around.” His voice cracked, and the words continued to pour from him, like a dam had finally burst and everything he’d been holding back just flooded out. “You couldn’t know what it’s like, for everything that you have to be dependent on someone else’s goodwill. I am a celebrity, but you’ve seen how quickly ‘fans’ will turn on you. You all have real lives, secret identities, to fall back on, but I don’t. Everything else… My apartment, my schooling, my _life_ , all of that depends on making sure that I continue to be useful, until I can finally get my revenge!” He shook his head furiously, grabbing at his hair. “But you, Joker… Somehow you have _everything_ , even though you’re just attic trash with a criminal record! You have friends and family and people who would take a bullet for you without question. There’s no blade hanging over your head, waiting to drop at the slightest misstep. What makes _you_ so special?!”

“Hey!” Ryuji objected, stepping forward as if to shield Akira from everything Akechi was saying. “You say that like you’re not just as special. We wouldn’t have made you one of us if we didn’t think you were worth something!”

“My powers were useful and you wanted to keep an eye on me,” Akechi spat. “That’s all.”

Akira put a hand on Ryuji’s shoulder, nodding in thanks before turning to face Akechi properly. It stung harder than he’d been expecting, to hear the affectionate, joking name turned on him maliciously. Akechi had called him trash like he meant it, this time. But he still believed he could get through to him.

“We wanted you around,” he said. “I wanted you around.”

Akechi scowled. “Like that means anything. I knew all along that you were just playing with me, that you were working towards some end or that you would leave me when you figured out what I really was,” he hissed. “But you weren’t supposed to get the chance to prove me right, before the end. I was supposed to end you before you could abandon me.” He grinned suddenly, manic. “But it’s okay! I can still end this! To hell with the suicide plan; the Phantom Thieves can just disappear!”

He ripped off his red mask and Robin Hood flashed into existence behind him, somehow seeming larger and more intimidating now that he was standing opposed to them. The Thieves dropped into a fighting stance, Futaba summoned Necronomicon, and Yusuke made one last appeal in the hope to stop the fight that was coming before it started.

“Killing us won’t make you happy.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m supposed to be feeling! What would you know about what would make me happy?!” Akechi roared. “Oh, wait, I forgot. That’s what you _do_. You decide who should be feeling guilty, and you inflict that on them! And then you just sit back while it rips them apart!”

“Goro!” Akira cried, but Robin Hood lifted his bow, and he was forced to dodge as kougaon crashed down on where he’d been standing.

Akechi was aiming for his weaknesses. That wasn’t good.

He reached for his other personas, looking for the ones resistant to bless spells. Arsène could handle the curse spells fine, and the other Thieves weren’t specifically weak to anything Akechi could do. It was only the two of them, opposites with inherent bless and curse elements.

Poetic, in a way.

They’d never fought another persona-user before, and it was surprisingly difficult, even eight-on-one. Akechi knew how they all fought; he’d been part of their rhythms and patterns for an entire Palace and enough Mementos trips that he could use it against them, throwing out bless and curse skills indiscriminately and taking aim with his gun during their attempts to switch out. Akira hadn’t realized how much the ray gun and lightsaber actually burned until he’d been hit a few times when he hadn’t been able to dodge.

But eventually, numbers started to win out. Akechi couldn’t avoid everything, despite his best attempts and the fact that Akira wasn’t hitting as hard as he could have been. Even when Akechi cast megidola, it hardly fazed them through Futaba’s defense buffs.

“We know all your tricks! Just give it up already!” Ryuji called.

Akechi’s grip tightened on his blade. “Do you?” he asked, something wild in his expression. “If I didn’t tell you everything about myself, why would I tell you everything I could do in battle?” He stepped forward, gesturing sharply at all of them. _”Maragidyne!”_

A figure covered in black and white stripes, with horns and gold hooves, appeared behind Akechi. It hurt to look directly at it, but it was only there for a moment before it swung its massive sword and a wave of fire washed over the Thieves. Ann threw herself in front of Yusuke to try to block the worst of it, but their ice elemental still went down hard, and everyone else found themselves beating small flames out and staring in horror.

“What was that?” Haru cried, clutching a singed spot on one arm as Makoto tried to ready mediarahan.

**“It wasn’t Robin Hood,”** Futaba’s voice said from inside Necronomicon. **”I’m trying to scan, but it was something completely new!”**

Akira’s mouth had fallen open, and he stared at Akechi from across the battlefield in shock and confusion.

_Wild Card._ Akechi was a Wild Card. Akechi had more than one persona. Akechi was _like him._ He hadn’t realized there was anyone else like him. Igor and the twins had never even hinted at such a thing.

Akechi laughed at his expression. “Oh? Did you think you were the only one? Really now, Joker. Would you believe me if I said I didn’t even have to negotiate? Both personas are mine!” He lifted one hand, his mask crushed in his fist and trailing blue fire. “Arise, Loki!”

The black-and-white persona reappeared, and they could finally get a good look at it. Gangly limbs ended in clawed hands, the persona seemingly resting its chin on one hand in a casual gesture as it perched atop its sword, red braids swirling around it. Akechi looked right at Akira, his eyes wide and desperate. “I’m not letting you stop me now. I’m too close!” he cried. “I’ll end things on my own terms. So, Akira… rest easy and die. _Laevateinn!_ ”

“Joker!”

Akira barely heard his teammates screaming, transfixed at the persona coming right at him, brandishing that giant sword. At the last moment, he tried to call up something to deflect, but Loki cut through tetrakarn as if it wasn’t even there, and as the sword connected and he went flying, he was genuinely surprised he wasn’t literally spilling his guts all over the floor. It still hurt like hell, and Morgana was at his side instantly, healing magic at the ready as the rest of the Thieves charged Akechi furiously. Spell after spell landed, over and over, and it became abundantly clear that Akechi’s personas, even with the addition of Loki, didn’t know any sort of healing magic of their own besides samarecarm. By the time the barrage had stopped, he was on his knees, covered in ash and flecks of ice, barely able to lift his head even though he hadn’t let go of his weapons.

“Guys, back off,” Akira said. Diarahan had set him to rights, but there was still a lingering soreness as he pushed his way to the front of the group. He just looked at Akechi for a long moment, trying to gather the right words, then said, “You said...there’s someone you want revenge against. Who?”

“Does it matter?” Akechi wheezed, forcing himself to his feet. The Thieves remained alert, but it was obvious that he wasn’t in any shape to keep fighting.

“Of course it matters,” Akira said. “If someone hurt you, some awful adult, if someone manipulated you into all of this, we can help you. We can take their heart and make things better.” He offered Akechi a gloved hand, but the words had the opposite effect he intended as Akechi stumbled backwards, away from him.

“No, I don’t need _anyone!_ I’ve made it this far all by myself!” Akechi cried. “All of you, dependent on each other, it makes me sick! All having teammates is good for is so you can feel sorry for each other. I’m fine on my own!” As he shouted, for a second, his princely outfit was obscured by another, all blue and black stripes and belts. But most prominently, a wicked-looking helmet. He flickered back to normal immediately after, a look of shock on his face, but the damage was done.

“What…?” Makoto whispered.

“The hell was that?” Ryuji added.

But it was Yusuke who voiced the obvious, what all of them had seen and no one wanted to say. 

“The Black Mask.”

The intruder in the metaverse had truly been Akechi all along. None of them had ever imagined that someone could have two metaverse outfits, but seeing was believing, and he’d clearly been something else, even if it was only for a second. As they all slowly processed what that meant, Akira stepped forward to try again.

“You say that we’re dependent on each other...but aren’t you dependent on the person you work for?” he asked, very quietly, and Akechi’s gaze snapped up to him.

“I don’t have a choice,” he growled. “I am what I have to be, to survive long enough to bring him down with me.” The blue and black outfit crawled up his legs again, but couldn’t seem to get past his knees, for some reason.

“Akechi-kun, you’re more than what someone else defines you as. You don’t have to do this,” Makoto called.

“We’re all on the same side!” Ann cried. “We all hate what rotten adults have done to us!”

Akira pushed his mask up to rest on top of his head, looking at Akechi with clear grey eyes. “You say that you don’t need anyone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t want someone. You didn’t have to join us; you didn’t have to fight with us in Okumura’s Palace. You...didn’t have to be with me. Unless that was just a trick to get us here.” He didn’t believe it was, but the possibility existed.

“No, I…” Akechi said weakly.

“You like Joker, don’t you?” Morgana asked. “Just be honest with yourself!”

There was still a hint of a desperate gleam in Akechi’s eyes, even through his sad expression. “I just wanted one good thing, for as long as I could have it. Even if it wasn’t real.”

“Of course it was real,” Akira said sharply. “I--”

But Akechi cut him off. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Lie to me. Don’t lie to me anymore.” His voice was trembling. “From the first time you approached me, you knew I had a persona! Why should I believe that anything we had was genuine?”

Akira swallowed hard. “I’m not lying to you. I mean it.”

“No, you don’t. You can’t.”

“Just listen to me--”

_“Don’t!”_

“Goro, I love you!” The words burst from him without any control, and it hadn’t been how he’d pictured finally saying them to the boy he’d come to care about so much. Ten floors down in a nightmare of a subway, confessing to your half-sworn enemy like something out of a dramatic anime… No, that hadn’t been what he’d wanted. He’d wanted soft words, the two of them safe and together and alone somewhere nice. But this was what he had, and he was just going to have to roll with it.

Akechi stared at him, his eyes wide with fear, and something fractured in their depths. The panicked detective looked down, hands creeping up to clutch at his hair again. “No… _No_ …” The blue-and-black striped outfit crept up over his thighs and then receded again, rising and falling as he clearly fought with himself.

“Goro…” Akira took a tentative step forward, laying a hand on his shoulder, and Akechi froze. And then everything around him seemed to explode with power, and threw Akira away from him.

***

Goro could feel the belts, feel his other outfit trying to wrap around him, but he couldn’t force it. He couldn’t detach from what was happening, for the first time in years. Akira had reached into him and burrowed into his soul and wouldn’t let him go to do what needed to be done.

Akira had to be lying. No one loved him. No one would want the real him, the ugly, broken thing beneath the mask, not even Akira. And he wanted Akira so badly, but he couldn’t _have_ him, he couldn’t keep him, not like this, not when he was so close. He had to keep going, he couldn’t stop, or all of it was for nothing and all the blood on his hands...it was going to get on Akira too. It was going to ruin him like everything else good in Goro’s life. He was going to be taken away and there was nothing that could stop it so he had to be lying because if he wasn’t it was going to _hurt_.

_I love him._

_I’ll hurt him._

**I can’t.**

He wanted Akira and he wanted his revenge on Shido, and he couldn’t have both. And his mind went to war, clawing at itself in anxiety and panic because he couldn’t reconcile his wants. It was too late to ask for help, too late to beg for forgiveness, and he could feel Loki and Robin Hood straining against each other somewhere in his subconscious.

_He’ll help you if you ask._

_He’ll try to stop you!_

**I don’t know, I don’t know!**

He struggled, grappling with his thoughts as they became more and more fragmented, as his carefully-constructed world came crashing down around him. There was a noise, he wasn’t sure if it was real or in his head, like shattering glass, and pain flared through him like fire. 

He screamed, and then knew nothing at all.

***

The Phantom Thieves, almost knocked from their feet by the shockwave of power that had come off of Akechi, stared incredulously as their traitor swayed on his feet, eyes wide and empty. All of them, even Akira, hung back, uncertain what was happening or what Akechi was going to do next. Blue fire flared around his feet and face, consuming his mask, and Akira took a step back as Loki and Robin Hood appeared.

For a moment, both of his personas were visible above him, like a literal representation of an angel and devil on his shoulders, and then both of them collapsed into motes of darkness and dispersed. Akechi let out a scream and collapsed to the floor, and suddenly Mementos warped around them, sending them all to their knees as the world roiled with pressure.

When they could focus again, they were laying in the street in Tokyo. Akira forced himself up, stumbling over to Akechi, who was back in his street clothes and seemed to be unconscious. But he was breathing, and Akira couldn’t help the relief that flooded through him.

“Are we… Are we back in the real world?” Ann asked tentatively. The rest of the Phantom Thieves were looking around at the city, throngs of people on the sidewalks ignoring the cluster of teenagers that had just appeared in their midst. But something was wrong. The buildings were all oddly fake-looking, though a cursory glance didn’t reveal anything _wrong_ with them, per say…

“Uh, I dunno about you guys, but I don’t remember the real world havin’ _four suns_ ,” Ryuji pointed out, and they all looked up. There were in fact four suns high above them in a line, so bright that they blotted out the sky around them.

“Could this be another part of Mementos?” Yusuke asked.

“We’re not in Mementos, but we’re not back in reality, either. Look!” Morgana said, and they finally took a good look at each other, startled. Morgana looked as he usually did in the metaverse, but the rest of them, despite still wearing their masks, weren’t quite settled. Their clothes had become a mishmash of their street clothes and their thief gear. And it wasn’t equal for all of them, either. Haru and Futaba were almost entirely in their metaverse outfits, Haru’s cardigan and Futaba’s jacket being their only indicators of their outfits in reality. Yusuke, Ryuji, and Makoto were somewhere in the middle, a roughly even split between streetwear and metaverse outfit. And Akira and Ann were in mostly street clothes, the opposite of Haru and Futaba. Ann only had her tail, boots, and gloves from her thief gear.

Akira looked down at himself, dressed in his uniform with Joker’s gloves, and bit his lip. He had a theory, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be the first to say it. Thankfully, he was saved from making the decision by Futaba blurting it out. 

“Guys, I think we’re in Akechi’s Palace!”

There was a round of incredulous noise as everyone tried to talk at once, and Akira held up a hand. “Everyone, be quiet for a second.” He turned to Morgana, asking quietly, “Is that possible? You said that persona-users can’t have Palaces.”

“I’m not an expert,” Morgana said defensively, but he held a tiny paw to his mouth in contemplation. “Having a persona usually means you have a grasp on your inner self, but if you were to lose that grasp, I guess theoretically the persona could revert back to a shadow.”

“So Akechi-kun was under enough emotional stress that his personas reverted to his shadow and formed a Palace?” Makoto summarized. “He was under so much pressure, and we had no idea…”

“He had a better mask than any of us,” Akira murmured, lifting Akechi’s head into his lap so he wasn’t lying completely on the pavement and letting a healing spell seep into him, clearing up the bruises and cuts he was sporting from their battle. “But what do we do now? We can’t explore like this, with him unconscious.”

A familiar voice from somewhere off to their left said, with a faint lilt, “Probably best to take him home. He might get hurt if he can’t defend himself.”

The Phantom Thieves gasped. There was another Akechi standing there, one dressed in his princely outfit he’d worn as Crow, sans the mask. Akira looked between the smiling Crow and the limp, sleeping boy in his lap and frowned.

“Is this...Akechi-kun’s cognitive version of himself?” Haru asked tentatively.

“Wouldn’t it be strange for him to see himself as Crow, though?” Yusuke pointed out.

‘Crow’ shook his head. “You’re not quite on the right track,” he said, and Akira noted that the friendliness in his voice didn’t have that awkward edge it usually did when Akechi was around the whole group. It was all genuine. “I’m not a cognitive. I’m him. You’ve realized that he’s like you, haven’t you, Joker?”

Akira tilted his head. “You mean a Wild Card?”

“Is that what it’s called? We wouldn’t know,” Crow said. “We haven’t had any help with this, not really. The voice in the blue space only ever tried to warn us about you. It didn’t teach us much at all.”

That was strange. And concerning. Akechi hadn’t had the same help as him, even though he had the same power? “So if you’re not a cognitive, you’re a shadow, right?”

Crow chuckled. “You’re getting closer. Our heart shattered from the strain we were under. I am just one piece of that. I suppose…” He looked down at himself contemplatively. “You could call me something of an ideal self. I suppose you could also call me Robin. But I believe Crow will suit for now.”

Futaba called up Necronomicon and disappeared inside, and the rest of the group looked at each other in confusion. It was Makoto who finally said tentatively, “If you’re the aspect of Akechi-kun embodied by Robin Hood, does that mean…?”

“Loki is a core piece of our heart as well,” Crow said. “He’s here.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Futaba confirmed. “I’m picking up a few signals similar to him, but I can’t get a good read on them. The layout of this place is weird, and there’s no Treasure reading.” She hopped down from her persona and dispelled it, resting a hand on her hip. “We probably should take his advice and go. That last battle tired everyone out, and we don’t know what to expect here.”

“How’re we gonna get back, though? This place just looks like Tokyo. We don’t know what his keywords are, and it could take days to figure ‘em out,” Ryuji objected. “We don’t have that kinda time. Can’t we at least get him to tell us before we go?”

Crow gestured around them. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked mischievously, as Akira pulled out his phone to check the nav. _“All the world’s a stage…”_

_“....oh.”_ Suddenly it became obvious what was wrong with the city around them. The sides of the buildings were flat, the details seemingly painted on. Everything was like a backdrop, scenery mimicking its real self. It was convincing as long as you didn’t look too closely, but that comment had opened their eyes. Akira stared at the nav as the words filled themselves in for him.

**Name:** _Akechi Goro_ \- **Location:** _the world_ \- **Distortion:** _a theatre_

Crow leaned over him, one gloved finger tapping the screen, and the world began to warp as they began to navigate home. The princely shard of Akechi’s heart looked down at the real Akechi, his brow furrowing with concern, and then met Akira’s eyes. “Take care of him, Joker. He’s...been through a lot.”

They were gone before Akira could reply, reappearing on the sidewalk outside of Yongen-Jaya station.

***

Ryuji helped him carry Akechi to Tae’s clinic, where she frowned disapprovingly but let them bring him into the exam room. Once she’d done a checkup, though, it came to light that there was nothing physically wrong with Akechi. He was simply unconscious and showing no signs of waking up.

“Dare I ask what happened to him?” she said dryly, crossing her legs and fixing Akira with a look that made him very grateful that the clinical trials were over.

“...his heart broke,” he said after a moment, uncertain how to explain any better than that. “We’ve got to try to fix it...or I guess he won’t wake up.”

Tae sighed. “Well, he seems physically healthy, at least. Are you going to look after him until you...fix his heart?”

Akira nodded. “I’ll let him stay at my place.”

The doctor stared at him flatly, unimpressed by his casual agreement. “Just know that if he’s like this longer than a day or so, you’ll need to either take him to the hospital, which I know you won’t do, or bring him back here so I can hook him up to some fluids. Otherwise he’ll start to die of dehydration.”

“Er…” Akira rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “In that case, can I leave him here? I can pay you, however much. Just, please…”

Tae’s expression softened. “Don’t worry about paying me,” she said. “You obviously care about him a lot. This will be how I pay you back for helping me save Miwa-chan.”

Akira swallowed hard. “Thank you, Takemi-sensei.”

He took a last look at Akechi, who looked more relaxed unconscious than he had while awake in weeks, then headed out to face his friends with all the enthusiasm of someone going before a firing squad. No one spoke, they all just walked back to Leblanc in silence, passing a still-worried Sojiro and heading up to the attic. Once everyone had found a seat, Akira said, each word feeling like he was about to choke on it, “We have to do his Palace.”

“Do we have time for that?” Makoto asked. “We said that if he was a threat, we would take him out of the game. And that pretty much takes him out. Now we can change Sis’s heart without worrying about an ambush.”

“We can’t just leave him like that, either,” Akira said. “Something’s wrong; can’t you tell?”

“Does it matter?” Futaba asked bluntly. “I don’t know if I want to help him. He killed my mom, ‘Kira. Maybe he can wait.”

“My father is dead because of him as well,” Haru pointed out, an edge to her voice. “I would argue that he deserves to suffer from the same thing he inflicted on so many others, at least for now.”

Makoto scowled. “I get that you’re in love with him, for whatever reason, but I’m not placing the murderer higher on my list of priorities than helping my sister.”

“If you want a practical reason that doesn’t involve my _compromised feelings_ , we have to wake him up so he can tell us who he works for,” Akira snapped. “We won’t get anywhere if we don’t know who wanted us dead in the first place. And if we can change his heart and get him on our side for real, he could help us save your sister and double-bluff our real enemy all at the same time.”

Ryuji looked around at them all awkwardly. “Uh… if my opinion means anything, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea, y’know? He could tell us all sorts of stuff if he wasn’t...broken.”

Yusuke, one leg pulled to his chest as he sat on the couch, said quietly, “Perhaps it would be best if we all took some time to consider the situation. There is likely time for both infiltrations, but there are clearly a lot of personal feelings here for everyone to consider. If I may, though...changing the heart of someone that stole a parent from you is very cathartic.”

In the end, that was all they could do: split up and agree to think things over. Akira offered a day’s grace period to make a decision, and then they would have to choose, because they didn’t know what they would find on the next floor of the Casino or in the Theatre, and they couldn’t afford to run out of time.

As the Thieves left one-by-one, Ryuji and Ann stayed behind, and Akira distracted himself stealing back his pillow from Morgana before finally asking, “What is it?”

“We, uh…” Ryuji began, and Ann nudged him. “We wanted to say sorry.”

That got Akira’s attention, and he turned to look at them curiously. “Sorry? For what?”

“I knew you liked Akechi for real, and I didn’t say anything,” Ann said. “I thought it sounded weird when Morgana said you were pretending to date him, but I didn’t want to ask and cause a huge fuss. So, I’m sorry for not sticking up for you. You… You’ve been there since the beginning. You listened to me about Kamoshida, when no one else would, and I should have been there for you. I’ll go into his Palace with you, even if the others won’t.”

“Me too,” Ryuji added. “And I’m sorry, too. I kinda overreacted. I wish you’d picked literally anybody else to date, but it’s not like you can help who ya fall in love with, I guess.”

That earned a small smile from Akira, and then he glanced back as Morgana grumbled to himself before saying, “I shouldn’t have told everybody something that I wasn’t sure was true. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know, Morgana,” Akira said quietly. “We’re all stressed, and we’re all worried. And whatever happens, you’re all still my friends. But I can’t leave Goro like this.”

“We get it, dude,” Ryuji said. “And that’s why we’re here to help you. Just like old times!”

Had it really been just seven months ago that they’d triumphantly sprinted out of Kamoshida’s Castle, Treasure safely in their grasp? Akira looked around at the original Phantom Thieves, feeling warm, and Ann walked over to give him a hug. “We’ll figure it out, Akira. I promise. You’ve helped us all so much; the least _any_ of us can do is do this for you.”

“Thank you…” Akira whispered, returning the hug, and after another moment Ryuji walked over to wrap his arms around both of them as well. Akira just let himself be sandwiched between them, holding on tightly. Things were going to be okay. His friends would understand, Akechi would be fine, and they’d be able to figure out who their true enemy was.

He was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akira: “I want your love and I want your revenge; you and me could write a bad romance~”  
> Akechi, screaming: _“Why are you like this.”_
> 
> The actual playlist songs are [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6CCcTClgYE) and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAq_FpWU18c), for the opposing war POVs, and also [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kg0pqUIJJiY), but Bad Romance fits very well too, I think. XD Anyway…
> 
> The best(?)-kept secret was that we weren’t making it to 11/20.
> 
> Welcome to Akechi’s Heart World, the Theatre of Fraud.
> 
> If you’ve been following along since Intermezzo, at least, this is what all of that rambling about dungeons and Palaces and Maki and shadows was all leading up to. This is why Yu’s shadow made an appearance in Catch Perfect. Here we are. My justification for getting Akechi to _stop_ before everything goes to Hell.
> 
> God, you guys don’t understand, I have been planning this for ages. I have had chunks of this written since I was working on Catch Perfect’s ending. And now I’m finally here and I get to put all of that buildup to use. I’ve seen some really good interpretations of what Akechi’s Palace might be, but I haven’t seen anyone do a theatre yet, which I’m glad about, because now I get to run rampant. XD
> 
> A theatre fits him, because his whole life has been trying to play whatever role will keep him the safest. Be the perfect child for his foster parents, the perfect detective for the police, the perfect Prince for his fans, the perfect hitman for Shido...because if he messes up, he’s hurt or punished or abandoned. Or killed, if Shido’s angry enough. Hence ‘Fraud’, because everything that he is, is some sort of mask to protect himself. He’s completely fake around other people, except for Akira at this point, who managed to get through to him enough to even collapse his emotional state in the first place.
> 
> As for me referring to it as his Heart World… It’s not strictly a Palace, though there is a Treasure. But it’s also not a dungeon, even though he’s suppressing his inner shadow. As a Wild Card, the place he constructs for himself in meta-space is more complex, and is closest to the world of Maki’s heart as shown in Persona 1: different aspects of himself, loose in a version of the city created to his specifications.
> 
> How the Thieves deal with those aspects is the question now.
> 
> Next chapter: Like I said last time, we have a Palace to do. I just didn’t say which one. ;)


	36. November 8th, 2016

Akira left school on Tuesday and headed right for Shibuya, turning down the familiar alley and into the airsoft shop. Iwai was reading a newspaper behind the counter, but set it aside when he saw Akira. “Hey, kid. That’s a more serious face than usual.”

“There’s something important I need to do,” Akira said. “I need the strongest stuff you have. I don’t care how expensive it is.”

Iwai looked him over for a moment, then got up and went to look through the shelves. “Same styles as usual?” he called.

“Yeah,” Akira called back. It was inconvenient sometimes that everyone on his team favored different weapons and guns, but if it was what they needed to fight their best, they would have it.

The ex-yakuza came over with an armful of weapons and set them on the counter, before going to lock the shop door. “These are replicas of the most hardcore weapons I have. If these were real, there’d be nothing stronger in the whole store, got it?” He came back over, pulling a knife from the pile and handing it to Akira. “That’s what we call a pro parrying knife. Solid grip, decent-sized hand guard, and see this notch in the blade? It’s meant to catch your opponent’s weapon so you can take the chance to twist it away from them. Got it?”

Akira’s eyes were fire. He held up the knife, testing the weight and the balance, then set it carefully back on the counter. “That’s great. What about the rest?”

Iwai went through each weapon, then each of the replica guns, explaining the small details that would help their wielders even though he was still blatantly amused by Akira’s purchase of a whip. He then brought over a grey vest of surprisingly light fabric and held it up critically. “This is called a soul vest. Dunno who named it, but it’s made of some durable stuff. I’ve got the usual sizes. I’m assuming you want seven, and the matching collar?”

“Eight,” Akira said. “An extra one a size up from me, please. And this is probably going to sound stupid, but do you have any replica lightsabers or blasters?”

“You and your cosplay…” Iwai grumbled good-naturedly, and he went to check a corner full of suspiciously anime-looking weapons. He came back with what appeared to be a long saber with a fancy hand guard and a rounded blade. When it was cut on, the light started from the hilt and ascended up the blade, just like how the sabers cut on in Star Battles. Akira took it from his hands, swinging it carefully in the open space of the shop, and then added it to the pile. “This too.”

Iwai raised an eyebrow. “You don’t usually buy a whole arsenal at once,” he said calmly, getting a box and starting to pack up the model guns.

“It’s...something new, and I don’t know what to expect. I’d rather be prepared,” Akira said vaguely. Iwai knew. Of course he did. All of Akira’s close friends outside the Thieves knew. But Iwai wasn’t the sort to want specifics.

“Sounds good,” Iwai said. “Are you gonna be able to get all of these home?”

“I’ve got some help waiting out on the main road to carry everything. Thanks.” Akira fumbled in his bag for his wallet, and Iwai shook his head.

“Put that away, kid.”

“Hm?” 

Akira blinked, the determination in his eyes cooling a bit with confusion. Iwai almost laughed at the face he was making. “You’re not paying for this stuff.”

“Wh--” The confusion gave way to outright shock, and Akira stammered, “B-But that’s… That’s hundreds of thousands of yen worth of stuff--!”

Iwai continued packing the weapons into manageable boxes, sealing them up with packing tape and adding makeshift handles by doubling the tape over on itself. “You think I’m stupid? You think I haven’t noticed how weird things are getting, and how desperate that warrant they issued sounds? Something’s not right. So you’re going to take these, and shut up, and not get arrested doing whatever you’re doing. Got it?”

Akira took a deep breath. “...got it. Thanks, Iwai-san.”

“Don’t mention it, kid. Now, take your boxes and get out of my store, before someone notices how much shit you didn’t buy.” Iwai’s tone was gruff, but he was smiling, and Akira smiled back.

“Yessir.”

And if he ‘accidentally’ dropped a hundred thousand yen on the counter while trying to pick up all the boxes, well… Oh well.

***

They’d agreed, all of them, that going after Akechi first was the safest bet. For an assortment of reasons both practical and personal, but they’d all agreed, and that was the important part. So the team assembled in Leblanc’s attic, opening up the boxes Akira and Ryuji had carried home and handing out their new gear, and then Akira pulled out his phone.

“If the distortion is the world, we can enter from anywhere, so it seems the safest to just stay here,” he said, and they all nodded. No one was saying much; the atmosphere was tense, and no one knew what to expect when they returned to the Theatre. Akira activated the nav and let it warp them away, hoping that his friends could keep it together long enough to get through this Palace.

They ended up in the stage version of Shibuya, somewhere along Center Street, and their clothes were just as much a mishmash as they’d been the first time. Akira tugged at his gloves anxiously, looking around, and finally spotted Crow walking towards them with a look of relief.

“You came,” Crow said quietly. “I hoped you would.”

“Akechi’s got answers, and we need them,” Ryuji said. “And we’d be shitty good guys if we left him in this state.”

“I understand,” Crow replied. “I will help you as much as I can, if you will allow me.”

Makoto leaned a hand on her hip, looking skeptical. “If you’re a piece of Akechi, can’t you just take us directly to his Treasure and get this over with? The Palace will let you through, right, and then you can talk some sense into his shadow?”

“I...can’t. Unfortunately, my princeling has never been inclined to listen to me,” Crow said mournfully. “I am the part of Akechi Goro that believes in the Phantom Thieves, but I am not strong enough to override the rest of our will. I can help you because of that belief, though, so please...help me, in return. I just want our happiness. I always have.”

Akira had never seen such a genuine expression on Akechi’s face the entire time that he had known him. It was almost disconcerting to see this version of him being so honest. He looked around at the false cityscape surrounding them, then asked, “If you want to help, tell us what’s going on with this Palace. It’s clearly some kind of stage, but what do we have to _do?_ The whole city is here, it seems like, and that’s a lot of ground to cover.”

“We bury our self in masks and plays. It will not be as simple as just finding our Treasure,” Crow said. “The piece of us that is here will appear in a place of significance. To reach that place and see through our mask is to end the act and begin the next.”

“And how many acts will there be?” Haru asked, something brittle in her voice. “Everything about Akechi-kun has been a lie; how many masks must we shred to reach his heart?”

Crow looked at the floor, polished floorboards mimicking the paved streets of Tokyo. “I...do not know.”

A murmur of discontent passed around the group, and Akira waved them on. “Let’s go, then. We have to find this act’s Akechi if we’re going to get anywhere.”

As they started walking, Yusuke said, “Crow. In most Palaces we have been in, even the shadows that wished for help were protective of the Treasure, because their distortion was so strong.” He dodged as Futaba tried to shove him, and asked, “Why, then, do you wish to _help_ us steal your Treasure, despite the strength of your own distortion?”

Crow smiled sadly. “Because there has always been a small part of us that believed that, with your help, we could save our self.”

No one knew what to say to that, and they walked onwards into the city in silence, bracing themselves for whatever lay ahead.

***

It was interesting to see how Akechi viewed Tokyo, even if so far all they had seen was Shibuya. There was a difference in the quality of the backdrops they passed; certain buildings existed in full and elaborate detail, near-indistinguishable from their counterparts in reality, while others were simply hastily-constructed things with a coat of paint thrown on. It was clear that Akechi paid more attention to some places than others. The diner existed in full detail, while the video store was more a cacophony of color and ideas than an actual building.

The people were similar in detail. Most of the cognitives around them were completely formed, but as they headed through the Scramble towards the station, their features grew less distinct, even as they grew more animated.

_“Is that Akechi-kun?”_

_“It is, it is! Maybe we can get his autograph!”_

_“Maybe we can take a picture with him!”_

The Thieves stopped at the edge of a crowd, trying to see what was going on. It was impossible to see through the wall of people, but the people themselves were interesting enough. All of them had gone indistinct. Plain, identical faces, an entire sea of them, focusing towards the center where presumably another piece of Akechi was.

Yusuke boosted Futaba up to sit on his shoulders, and she scanned the crowd intently. “He’s definitely in there. Right where Buchiko is. I dunno if we’re going to be able to get to him, though.”

“Well, we have to try,” Ann said optimistically, and started trying to squirm her way through the crowd. The others followed, some more easily than others, and Futaba stayed up on Yusuke’s shoulders in a bid to avoid being squished, being the shortest. Eventually the crowd grew too thick to keep going, and no one wanted to push too hard to avoid potentially angering the cognitives when they were outnumbered at least ten-to-one, but they could finally see Akechi through the gaps.

Or what seemed like Akechi, anyway.

He moved unnaturally, stiffly, and only when someone was directly interacting with him. A handshake, a hug for an excited girl, a group wanting a selfie… The Akechi at the center of the crowd could smile and behave relatively normally, only to freeze up until the next person came up to greet him. Akira leaned as far as he dared into the cognitives in front of them, lifting his hand to his temple and reaching for his third eye ability, and it highlighted the strange shapes of his joints, until Akira gasped with realization.

“He’s a doll,” he whispered, just loud enough for the other Thieves to hear him. “One of those fancy ball-jointed dolls.”

“Oh my god…” Ann whispered back, looking at the detective’s strangely-glassy eyes.

Morgana scrambled up to Akira’s shoulder to get a better view. “I guess that means his whole ‘Detective Prince’ thing is fake, too. It only works if his fans are paying attention to him.”

“So this crowd…” Yusuke began. “He clearly doesn’t think much of them, if he views them all with the same face, but he also needs them to keep himself going?”

Crow nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. And…” He trailed off, glancing around, and the Thieves mimicked him, suddenly uncomfortable.

Futaba spotted them first, being high up on Yusuke’s shoulders. Strange dark figures moved effortlessly through the crowd. Where they passed, people pulled away from staring at Akechi to follow them, and Futaba shivered. “Guys, there’s these...weird shadows. They’re sort of attracting the crowd.”

“What do you mean?” Makoto asked.

“It’s like...their eyes have got that weird pink haze, like marin karin, but it’s different.” Their navigator frowned, leaning to try to see and forcing Yusuke to shift so she wouldn’t topple over. “It’s a darker color, and they just seem...enthralled.”

“What kind of shadows, though?” Makoto stood on tip-toes, trying to see, and Futaba cringed.

“We’re gonna find out, because one just changed direction, and it’s heading right for us.”

There was no way they were going to be able to fight with the crowd pressing in on all sides, but they all clustered together as best they could, looking around nervously and waiting to see what kind of enemy was going to appear. But Crow said quickly, “It’s not a shadow, it’s a cognitive--” just before it slipped around a cluster of girls and grinned at them.

“A-Akira-kun?” Haru stammered.

It tilted its head innocently. _“Haru-chan~”_ Wisps of blue fire and shadow flickered off of the form of Akira, looking perfectly ordinary otherwise in the school uniform and glasses. But the cognitive’s eyes were an intense cherry-red, and all of them were immediately wary.

“Dude, _this_ is how he sees Joker?” Ryuji hissed. “Some kind of eerie creeper?”

“Thanks, Skull,” Akira said dryly, never taking his eyes off the strange doppelganger. But the cognitive Akira just grinned wider, brushing through them and continuing into the crowd with a trail of people at his heels. The crowd was thinning more and more around them as more people peeled away to follow the shadowy figures, which on closer inspection were the other members of the Phantom Thieves, all looking ordinary except for the bits of fire and shadow and the unsettling smiles.

“Okay, that is _weird as hell_ ,” Ryuji said emphatically. “What the eff kind of messed-up thought is that?” He looked around at all of them, but Yusuke and Makoto’s expressions had gone blank, a faint magenta tinge to their eyes. “Uh, guys?”

“That weird version of Akira touched them!” Ann cried. She grabbed for Makoto, shaking her, but Makoto shook her off and began to amble after the other enthralled members of the crowd. Yusuke followed, and Futaba shrieked.

“No, no, get me down, I don’t want to go!” she cried, trying to pry Yusuke’s grip on her legs loose. His arms fell to his sides limply with a bit of tugging, and Futaba fell backwards. Akira lunged forward just in time to catch her, and she grabbed at the lapels of his blazer, eyes wide. “Wh-What do we do?” she asked, as Makoto and Yusuke vanished into the crowd.

Akira looked around. The crowd was all but gone, and he caught a glimpse of the cognitive Akira caressing the doll’s face, before pulling away out of his reach with a laugh. The doll froze in place again while trying to reach for him and overbalanced, hitting the pavement with a sickening thud.

“We have to see about the other Akechi’s mask, like Crow mentioned,” Akira said, setting Futaba back on her feet. “I’ll look for that; the rest of you go after Queen and Fox and figure out how to snap them out of it. Try anything you can think of.” He pulled a few packets of medicine from one of his coat pockets and shoved them into Futaba’s hands. “Mona, try patra and baisudi, and the harisen fans. If none of those work, these might. Go!”

“Be careful, Joker,” Ryuji said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You don’t know when any of those shadows might come back. We don’t want you brainwashed, too.”

“They got what they wanted,” Crow said quietly, looking around at the now quiet and empty Scramble. “They won’t return until the balance tips again.”

Akira’s eyes narrowed, and he turned towards the fallen doll, barely hearing his team running after the crowd behind him. He knelt beside Akechi, realizing that he was mumbling something under his breath, his lips just barely moving.

_”The music stopped and I stood still…_  
_Left alone against my will…”_

“Akechi,” he said, reaching out to take the doll’s hand, and it was like he’d breathed life back into him. Akechi’s eyes glimmered with recognition, and he tried to sit up.

“J-Joker…”

“It’s me,” Akira said softly, helping him upright. “This… This is what this is like for you?”

Akechi nodded, seemingly unbothered. “Fans are a fickle thing,” he said, “but without recognition, the Detective Prince doesn’t exist. I mean nothing, until someone picks me up to play with me again.” He smiled. “Will you?”

“I…” Akira fumbled awkwardly for words. This wasn’t really Akechi; or rather, it was only a small piece of him, and Akira wasn’t sure how to handle that. “Is this where we’re supposed to find you? I didn’t realize this was somewhere important.”

Akechi’s glass eyes darkened, and his smile gained that sharp edge it had when they fought in Mementos. “I’ll take that as a no,” he said, gripping Akira’s hand tightly enough to hurt. “If you won’t, he will, you know. And he doesn’t care how rough he plays.”

Before Akira could respond, the sound of Akechi’s phone ringing played from his pocket, and the doll reached for it. Akira tried to see the name on the screen, but it was just a number, and when Akechi answered the phone he let go of the thief’s hand and stood on his own power.

“Acknowledgment,” he said with a grin, as Akira stared up at him in confusion. Just before he turned away, he leaned over, saying in a mockingly fond voice, “You should know which place I would consider important, anyway. Wasn’t it love at first sight, Joker~? Before you broke our heart, that is.” And then he was gone, disappearing behind a backdrop and out of Akira’s view.

Akira stayed on the ground for a moment, processing what had just happened, that little glimpse he’d gotten of the Akechi beneath the prince’s mask, and then pushed himself to his feet. He knew where to go, now. It was just a matter of finding the rest of his team, and then finding out how _big_ this stage actually was.

***

When Akira caught up to the others back on Center Street, the cognitive crowd was gone. There was only the bizarre, eerie version of him, and the rest of his team trying to deal with being two down. Crow, Ann, Morgana, and Haru were facing cognitive Akira, Futaba was sitting on Makoto’s back as she squirmed, and Ryuji had a knee on Yusuke’s chest and was walloping him in the face with one of the harisen fans.

“Wake up, Fox!” he shouted.

Futaba groaned with frustration. “It’s not working, Skull, just use the medicine!”

“Patra and baisudi didn’t work?” Akira asked when he got close enough, and Ryuji tossed the fan aside.

“Nope. All that’s left is that medicine you gave Oracle.”

“Relax gel,” Akira elaborated. He held out a hand for one of the packets, and Futaba passed it over. It only took a second to open, and Akira mentally apologized before tugging one of his gloves off and smearing the gel on Yusuke’s face. Takemi’s medicine hadn’t failed yet, except for that time in Futaba’s Pyramid when they’d been turned into mice, but apparently this was something similar, because Yusuke’s eyes remained blank and rose-tinted.

Akira looked over to where the rest of the Thieves were holding off the cognitive. Cognitive Akira had his own version of Arsène, larger and more menacing than the real one, and without the real Akira only Crow had had the bless skills to do any real damage. But his spells were blatantly weaker than normal, probably as a result of being only one part of Akechi, and Akira stepped into the fight in a blaze of blue fire, furious at the thought that this was how Akechi saw him. He called Principality, bringing down probably an overkill amount of blessed light to knock his doppelganger to his knees so that the Thieves could surround him, guns drawn.

“What do we do, Joker?” Ann asked tensely.

Akira stared at the cognitive, still unnerved, but now more angry than anything. “We have to get rid of it. It’s still controlling Fox and Queen, and it’ll just keep coming after us if we leave it alone, or it’ll hurt Akechi before we can figure out how to end the act.”

 _“I wouldn’t hurt him. The poor, poor lost child, enthralled and enchanted but unable to follow, isn’t that how the story goes?”_ the cognitive Akira cooed. _”Because he’s crippled, usually, but in this case he’s crippled himself! Isn’t that hilarious? This is Lord Akechi’s theatre, but it may as well be a prison.”_

“Well, we’re here to get him out of that prison,” Akira said flatly. “And if that means taking out every misconception he has of me along the way, so be it.” He’d fired before he was aware of pulling the trigger, and he watched the cognitive dissolve into flecks of shadow with the sudden, nauseous feeling that it was exactly what Akechi had been planning to do to him.

He’d shot himself first. What did that say about him?

And was that how easy it was, for Akechi to shoot a shadow? No blood, no body, no consequences?

He was distracted by Yusuke and Makoto making disoriented, confused noises as the cognitive’s brainwashing wore off.

“Where am I, and why is Skull on top of me?” the artist asked, and Ryuji practically launched himself backwards.

“You got brainwashed by a weird cognitive Joker,” Futaba said, as she climbed off Makoto.

Both restored Phantom Thieves were filled in quickly about what had happened after the cognitive had met them in the crowd, and then Akira gathered them together. “I know where we have to go,” he said. “Buchiko wasn’t the right place, but Akechi said something about ‘first sight’. We have to figure out how to get to the TV station.”

“Do you think the trains even run here?” Morgana asked. “They might just be props.”

“We can at least go see,” Akira said. “Walking all the way to Akasaka Mitsuke would take far longer than we have.”

***

Shibuya Station, now accessible without the massive crowd blocking the entrances, turned out to have no train tracks at all. There was only a signboard of destinations. But when Yusuke had reached out and tapped where it read ‘Akasaka Mitsuke’, the world had blurred into motion, and the Phantom Thieves received a firsthand look at how much a theatre the world actually was.

The pieces of the city rumbled all around them, before pulling up towards the ceiling, suspended from hundreds and hundreds of wires. The stage lights that they had mistaken for suns dimmed, and the scenery above them began to rotate, shuffling itself around into a new pattern. With the lights down and backdrops up, they could see that they truly were on a massive stage, everything proportioned as if they were barely a foot tall, instead of normal sized. And beyond the edge, the audience itself, where massive spectral shadowy figures seemed to watch their every move…

The scenery dropped back to the stage with a thump, pieces of cityscape now forming the familiar shape of the TV station instead. Passing through the doors led immediately to the set of the talk show they’d visited, long ago on that day in June, three sides of scenery and the fourth open to the half-existent audience.

Akechi was seated on the couch, chatting away to a faceless interviewer, and sprawled across his lap was another cognition of Akira, seemingly content to lay there as Akechi ran his hand through his hair. But it wasn’t the same as the Akira out in the city. This one was dressed in Joker’s outfit...mostly. The pants were quite a bit tighter, and he wasn’t wearing the vest that usually went under the coat.

“Um…” Haru began, as Futaba just started giggling madly.

“You look like some doe-eyed BL love interest,” she managed to choke out between laughs.

“What the hell is Akechi thinking?” Ryuji said flatly.

No one answered, and Crow coughed awkwardly. “I should think,” he said, looking at each of the Thieves in turn, “that if we were to examine _your_ innermost thoughts, we would find that each of you has thought at least one inappropriate thing about Joker in that outfit in the past year.”

He didn’t sound accusatory, just matter-of-fact, but most of the Thieves averted their eyes, turning varying shades of pink and red. Yusuke and Morgana seemed the only ones unaffected, and Akira just grinned, admiring of Crow for defending the other piece of his heart.

“It is a little weird, though,” he said after a moment, looking at this new version of himself curiously as it batted its eyes adoringly up at Akechi. “It’s so different from the other one.”

Crow nodded. “He’s perceiving you in extremes because his heart is in fragments. But all of this is part of how he sees you. You win over everyone that you come in contact with, including him, and he wants to keep you and the affection you offer all for himself.”

“That’s… I don’t, though,” Akira said hesitantly.

Ann looked at him skeptically. “Uh, you’ve made friends with the gun store guy, a weird doctor, a politician…”

“That kid in the arcade,” Makoto added. “The fortune-teller…”

“A bartender.”

“A reporter.”

“Kawakami-sensei.”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Akira said loudly, and the Akechi on the sofa finally looked over at them.

“Ah!” he said. “The Phantom Thieves. How good of you to make an appearance. Have you come to turn yourselves in?” The doll had become significantly more real-looking, fed by the attention of the interviewer and the cognitive Akira. “I’m quite tired of having to search for you, you know.”

Akira stared at him, finally completely understanding what Crow had meant by ‘mask’. The ‘Detective Prince’ wasn’t real; he was built entirely on people’s perceptions. The real Akechi was somewhere else, and they were going to have to break the prince to get to him. There had been a crack in his armor earlier, so there was definitely a way.

“I could say the same of you,” he said, trying for a casual tone, and Akechi hummed.

“What does that mean? There’s no reason for you to search for _me_. I’m right here.”

“This isn’t you,” Akira said bluntly. “Not all of you, anyway. This is just a face you wear. You told me once that to get by in the world, ‘you just have to know what part to play.’ That’s all this is: a part, a fake. A _mask_. But you don’t need it; you don’t have to hide the real you.”

The pleasant smile stayed on Akechi’s face, but there was a definite note of discontent in his voice as he said, “What makes this part of me any less real than another?”

“Because you don’t like this, do you?” Ann asked. “It’s like modeling; there’s people looking at you all the time. But you... All your ‘pleasant boy’ stuff is an act for people you don’t even like.”

Akechi frowned, and the cognition acting as the interviewer got up very slowly and backed away, disappearing behind the backdrop. The cognitive Akira sat up, shifting to press close to Akechi, watching the Thieves warily with sharp red eyes.

“Does it matter?” Akechi asked bitterly. “This is the face people want to see. They’ll _leave_ if they see the real me!” His face twisted into a scowl. “The real me is worthless, unwanted, imperfect!”

The cognitive Akira pulled away, startled. Akechi glanced at it, his expression filled with disgust. “See? No one wants this side of me!”

“That’s not true!” Akira called. “ _I_ want that side of you. I want all the sides of you. So _show me your true form!_ ”

He took a step forward, and Akechi wailed like he was in pain, doubling over and collapsing to the floor as his joints gave out. The fragment of the Detective Prince was still, rejected in favor of the real thing that wasn’t to be found in this empty TV station, and the Thieves looked around as all the sets began to rattle ominously.

Everything was yanked towards the ceiling, pieces of the city crashing together and sending dust raining down on them, and they bunched together as tightly as they could, holding on to each other as they stared up at the carnage above them. The set pieces jerked back and forth on their wires, swinging wildly and casting strange shadows through the dimmed spotlights, and at last five walls crashed down around them, forming a pentagon-shaped room with a door on each wall. More crashes echoed in the distance as the rest of the set assembled itself beyond their enclosed space, and the Thieves looked around. One wall, facing the front of the stage, had a door with four padlocks. The other doors were unbarred. And where the doll-version of Akechi had fallen, now there was only a blank white comedy mask, empty and alone in the center of the floorboards.

Crow walked over and picked up the mask, and it vanished in his hands into motes of light. Akira let out a tired sigh, looking around at everything.

“Well...at least we didn’t have to fight him. Maybe this won’t be so bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Within this world, if you wish to live another day, you must disguise as a flower that will captivate…”_
> 
> The scene with Iwai at the beginning was originally supposed to be a sort of lock-and-load montage, but I realized I actually like writing Iwai, so it turned into that. XD And yes, I know there’s two stronger knives, but one is NG+ exclusive, and the other...is actually too important to just buy at Untouchable, I think, despite game canon.
> 
> A Palace is as good a place as any to beg “It makes sense in my head”, I hope. Stupidly enough, the first “act” is the one that I was least sure how to convey properly. The Detective Prince’s nature as a pretty lie is the most shallow of the things that he’s hiding, though, so hopefully that came across okay.
> 
> Next chapter: Act 2 - “Home” is a puzzle that can’t be assembled with only four pieces that don’t fit together. The story rating _will_ be going up, and there will be new tags. Be mindful, guys.


	37. November 8th, 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you somehow missed it, REMINDER that the rating for this chapter is technically M, and there are new tags. Most of this shouldn’t be a surprise considering some of what P5 was originally rated M for. This is probably the roughest it gets, though, at least…

As it turned out, all but one of the four doors without padlocks were also locked.

“Someone wants us to go in a certain order,” Makoto said, looking at the neatly-painted white door.

Akira hummed, looking around the room. “Well, I could always try to go over the walls and get into the other areas, if we wanted to go out of order. It’s not much higher than any other ledge I’ve jumped up.”

“It won’t be very helpful if that incurs some kind of penalty. Akechi-kun is a very rigid person,” Makoto said.

“I suppose,” Akira said. He had his own opinions on what kind of person Akechi was, but this wasn’t the place or time for a fight. He walked back over to to the unlocked door, opening it up and looking inside. There was a perfectly ordinary entryway, and more rooms mimicking a house were visible beyond. A single table stood, and on the table was a sheaf of papers, like pages torn from a picture book. Haru walked over and picked them up, glancing through them curiously. “It’s pages six through ten…” she said. “I’ll read it out loud.”

_“The Prince learned quickly not to be seen._  
_To be small and unnoticed was to be safe,_  
_for any fight started was his fault and responsibility,_  
_no matter the spark that ignited it in the first place._  
_But it was not enough, and exile again wrapped him in its frozen embrace.”_

“Is this some sort of hint?” Yusuke asked, coming over to examine the illustrations. They were simple things, soft watercolors depicting hazy scenes. The ‘Prince’ shared Akechi’s honey-brown hair, though, and Futaba chewed her lip.

“He said he was in foster care, didn’t he?” she pointed out. “Maybe this is about somewhere he stayed.”

“There are four padlocks on that other door,” Makoto said. “It’s obvious we have to go through each of these to get the keys for them. I suppose we’ll have to search.”

Ryuji shrugged. “Might as well get started, then,” he said, and headed forward into the house.

“Skull, wait!” Akira called, but Ryuji rounded the corner, and they heard his footsteps against the floor. Just as Akira took a step forward to go after him, they heard him scream, and all of them lunged forward to help him. But only a second later, he fell into the entryway from above, eyes wide and limbs shaking.

“What happened?” Ann cried, running over to kneel beside him and look him over.

Ryuji pointed shakily upwards, above the tops of the sets. “B-Big hand. _Really_ big hand. Fell out of the ceiling and just...g-grabbed me.”

Almost as one, the Thieves stared upwards anxiously. But then Haru looked back down at the picture book pages. “It is a hint!” she said. “We have to be quiet, unseen. Then the hand won’t grab us!”

Akira frowned. “Who can be the quietest?”

“You or Mona,” Makoto said. “And I would send Mona because he’s smaller.”

“I can handle this,” Morgana said. “I just have to find the key, right?”

“That’s what we think.”

“Leave it to me!” Morgana set his slingshot carefully on the floor and padded forward, silent on his small paws. The rest of them clustered as close to the front of the entryway as they dared, holding their breath as their teammate slunk across what looked like a living room, checking side tables and under furniture, dodging breakable-looking lamps and other potentially loud things. He disappeared from view eventually into the rooms beyond, and they waited, straining for any hint of sound, any whisper of disaster. They had no idea how many tries they would get. Would the hand continue to drop them at the entrance, or would it eventually tire of them and crush them?

There was a crash from further into the set, and they heard Morgana yell. Akira ran forward without thinking, darting around a corner to find his friend. Morgana came tearing through another doorway, an oversized golden key in his paw and a giant, emaciated hand chasing after him.

“Joker!” Morgana jumped for him, and Akira grabbed him with one arm, pulling out his gun with his other hand and firing wildly into the living room set. Vases and lamps crashed to the floor as he tried to aim, and the hand hesitated, twitching towards the louder noise and movement. Akira fired one last time, sending a stained-glass floor lamp careening into a shelf of knickknacks, and the hand changed direction, giving him enough time to back slowly into the entryway with Morgana safely in his grip.

“What happened?” Haru asked, hurrying over to make sure Morgana was okay with Futaba at her heels.

“The key was hanging up on a wall in the laundry room,” Morgana said. “I had to jump up on the counter to get to it, and I knocked some stuff over.”

“Jeeze, Mona, be more careful next time!” Futaba scolded, but she was obviously worried, and Morgana submitted to being snatched from Akira’s arms and hugged without complaint. When he was finally back on his own two paws, he held up the key.

“At least we’ve got this. That’s one down, three to go!”

***

Rather than risk losing the key to a future challenge, they went ahead and unlocked the gold padlock that matched it, leaving both lock and key on the floor and heading for the next door, which had unlocked for them. The moment they stepped through it into a different ‘house’ set, all of them flinched, feeling significantly weaker and mildly nauseous.

“What’s happening?” Ann asked.

Futaba called up the small version of Necronomicon, scanning all of them and finally managing a small smile. “Akechi’s pretty observant. This is that ‘hunger’ thing that Okumura’s shadow did to us, and it doesn’t seem like we can cure it,” she said. “And I’m getting readings of other shadows farther in. We’re gonna have to fight like this.”

No one was thrilled by the prospect, but Akira divided them into two teams, instructing Futaba to hang back in the entryway and provide support. The shadows were mostly Angels and Powers, which weren’t bad to deal with under normal circumstances, but weakened as they were from the incurable hunger, it was a challenge. Akira was forced to send Crow with the other group, knowing that they were the only two with the curse spells that would be valuable against the shadows, and he wondered, briefly, why all the shadows so far had been the ones that the Velvet Room classified as Justice. Akechi was a Wild Card, wasn’t he? So why didn’t he have a greater variety? Did he even have more personas than Loki and Robin Hood in the first place?

Yusuke found the key first, high in the back corner of the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet, along with another sheaf of picture-book pages. Eager to get out and escape the draining effect the set was having on them, they returned to the center room, and Akira passed out protein bars while Yusuke read the pages aloud.

_“When someone chose to bring him back, reprieve from his exile was welcome._  
_Though the Prince often found himself hungry, denied by those who_  
_thought him unworthy of sharing their bounty despite the offerings made to them._  
_And thus inside the Prince a Thief was born, a noble Thief to keep himself safe,_  
_though that Thief would not truly manifest for a long time yet.”_

“I guess that means you were first, huh?” Ryuji said through a mouthful of protein bar, elbowing Crow. “Does that mean Akechi was literally stealing shit, though?”

“Small things,” Crow said, staring at his lap. He wasn’t eating, claiming he had no need for it. “Apples. Rice balls. Enough to keep us alive when we were denied otherwise.”

“I don’t think anyone could fault him for that…” Futaba said, very quietly, and Akira curled an arm around her, letting her lean into his side.

Makoto looked around. “I’m sensing that none of these doors are going to be good experiences.”

Crow swallowed hard, glancing at the door with its two remaining padlocks. “...no. They aren’t.”

***

Behind the third door, the lights dimmed save for a single spotlight in the entryway of the newest house, illuminating the next set of pages. Ann picked them up, clearing her throat to read.

_“In at least one instance, freedom from exile brought only torment._  
_The Prince suffered at the hands of a cruel monster, who took pleasure in causing pain._  
_He could not fight back; the only escape was to endure._  
_When he was exiled once again, it was with the promise_  
_that returning the next time would only grow harder.”_

“That...doesn’t sound good,” Akira said, trying to see farther into the set with his third eye. It outlined the edges of rooms and doorways, but he couldn’t see any shadows. There was only an ominous noise, like footsteps, coming from deeper within.

“We just have to be careful, right?” Makoto said anxiously.

“Right.”

It, as most things did, turned out to be easier said than done. A bare few minutes into their search for the next key, a hulking cognition confronted them, a ten-foot-tall monstrosity that looked like someone had fused a man with the Reaper. Ann and Makoto screamed, Ryuji and Akira tripped over the furniture in an attempt to back away, and Haru, in a burst of sheer nerve, attempted to cleave her axe through its leg. But the axe bounced off of it without leaving a mark, and every other attack they threw at it only slowed it down. So they were forced to search for the key in the dim set while dodging the massive monster.

Splitting up did wonders, although they couldn’t avoid it completely, and Ann eventually found the key in a bedroom the size of a closet, under the flat, threadbare pillow. The Thieves, as soon as they knew it was in hand, turned to flee the set.

“Go, go, go, it’s coming!” Makoto yelled as they skidded around a corner. This house was like a maze, doors and walls at strange angles and no clear indication of how to get back to the exit. Even Akira’s third eye was only helping so much. Ann pulled out her gun as they entered yet another room, laying down as much cover fire as she could, and Akira glanced around at everyone.

“I know it’s that way. If we can’t find how to go around, we’ll go through them,” he said, gesturing at one of the backdrops that made up the walls.

They all nodded, and as Ann and Yusuke held off the cognition, the rest of them charged the backdrop. It broke in a crash of splintering wood, and Haru hacked the rest of it down from the wires, letting them trample it underfoot as they took a much more direct route to the exit.

Three broken backdrops later, they found the door, tumbling through into the safe central area in a mess of adrenaline and panic. Once they’d righted themselves, they stopped to catch their breath and take stock of their injuries.

“Skull, are you okay?” Ann asked, watching him move stiffly.

“I wasn’t fast enough. Got punched in the side. That thing hit _hard_ ,” he said.

Morgana moved to cast a healing spell to deal with the bruise, and Futaba looked at the floor. “He had nothing but bad foster parents, didn’t he? If that was his cognition of his foster dad…” She’d never been more grateful in her life that Sojiro had gotten her away from her uncle when he had. She probably wouldn’t have ended up like Akechi, but she wouldn’t have been in a good place, either. It didn’t excuse him killing her mother, but...if his mental state was this damaged, she could maybe start to understand why it had happened.

***

The last of the four doors was smooth, unpainted wood, and the entryway it led to was spacious. A nice house, belonging to someone who obviously was fairly well-off in reality. On the entryway table were two stacks of pages: the usual picture-book, and what looked like a script. Futaba reached for the picture-book pages to read them.

_“He acted as they wished, moved as they directed, but it was not enough._  
_The smallest mistake was enough to banish him once again._  
_And so the Prince clung to a dim hope:_  
_to one day return from exile under his own power,_  
_to find his father the King and hope for reconciliation.”_

“...but that reconciliation was not to be,” Crow muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Akira to hear.

Futaba added the pages to the others they’d already gathered. “That seems like an ending, but we’re missing the beginning,” she said.

“I guess that last door will show us the beginning of everything,” Makoto said, picking up the other pile of papers and flipping through it. “This is...a script?” She continued to look through the pages as they all crowded around to see. They were detailed instructions for what to do, how to move, how to look… Several pages worth, including taking the key and leaving. Makoto skimmed all of it, and finally said, “Only one of us is going to be able to go in there, and I doubt they’ll be able to take the script. How should we do this?”

“I’ll try,” Haru said. “I like to think I’m a good actor, and Oracle can feed me the instructions with Necronomicon, correct?”

“Oh, yeah!” Futaba summoned it, spinning lazily above one hand as she spread the script out on the table with the other. “Let’s go, Noir. The first line says ‘take off shoes and put away in the cabinet’.”

“Break a leg, Noir,” Yusuke encouraged, and she smiled tentatively.

She did as instructed, removing her shoes and putting them away in the small cabinet beside the table. With Futaba’s directions, she worked her way through the set, being as effortless and graceful as possible with her movements. Everything felt slightly taller than it should be, though, as though she had gone back to being a child, unable to reach the highest shelves. And in the kitchen, after being instructed to set the table for three for dinner, a plate slipped from gloved fingers as she strained to get it from the cabinet and crashed to the hardwood, shattering into pieces. There was a tremendous rumble, and suddenly two towering, shadowy silhouettes were looming over her.

_“Are you going to clean that up?”_

_“Useless child…”_

_“It would have been better if you’d never been born.”_

The rest of the Thieves heard Haru scream, and before they could do anything she fell out of the ceiling, just like Ryuji had in the other set. He went over to check on her, asking simply, “Hand?”

Haru nodded, her eyes wide. “A...very large hand.”

She flatly refused to go back in, and there was some debate over who would try next. Makoto finally stepped up, and ventured in with Futaba’s voice in her ear. When she got to the table-setting, the broken dish had vanished like it never existed, and though she fumbled a little, all the dishes made it safely to the table.

The shadowy figures lumbered around, and the script gave more and more detailed instructions to avoid upsetting them. Finally, Makoto was allowed to retreat to ‘her room’, where the key was hidden somewhere.

**“It literally just says ‘find key’,”** Futaba said apologetically.

“If I were Akechi…” Makoto murmured, looking around the room. There were so few possessions, there weren’t many decent places to hide anything. She walked around the room, being as quiet as she could in case noise attracted the wrath of the figures or the hands, looking in drawers, under the bed, in the small pile of toys. She lifted the mattress and patted down the sheets, and finally inside the pillowcase found a small silver key. “Futaba, I’ve got it. Now what?”

**“It says ‘sneak out while they’re asleep’,”** she replied, and Makoto took a deep breath, gripping the key tightly and venturing back through the set as quietly as possible. She found the shadowy figures slumped in chairs in the area that looked like a living room, and took extra care to slip quietly past, until she finally stepped back into the entryway and the other Thieves sighed with relief. Makoto passed the key to Akira and frowned. “Well, this explains why he’s so good at putting up that pleasant facade. He had to learn.”

Akira bit his lip and said nothing. He’d known they were similar, but this just confirmed it even more. Be nice, be polite, don’t start a fight and avoid upsetting your parents. At least his parents loved him, though. Akechi hadn’t even had that benefit.

He turned to the padlocked door and used the final key to remove the remaining lock and let it drop to the floor. But before he opened the door, he noticed Crow shifting anxiously from foot to foot, and asked, concerned, “What’s wrong?”

Crow looked at the floor. “Just...don’t be alarmed,” he said, which just made Akira more anxious. But they stepped through the door and all the lights went out except for a single narrow spotlight illuminating the first pages of the picture-book. Akira picked it up, glancing around at the pitch-black space that surrounded them, and began to read.

_“Once upon a time, there was a young Prince,_  
_heir to the throne, and his mother the Queen._  
_But the Queen had been exiled, abandoned by the King,_  
_and no one knew who they were or that the Prince even existed._  
_And one day, the Queen could no longer handle the suffering that it brought upon them...”_

As Akira read the last line, trailing off uncomfortably, the lights clicked on, and the Thieves gasped at the scene presented before them.

It was a woman, hanging limply, a noose around her neck that was attached somewhere in the ceiling. Her honey-brown hair, a perfect match for Akechi’s, hung loosely over her eyes, obscuring most of her face. A chair was kicked over to one side, and standing in front of the figure of the woman was an Akechi that appeared to be no older than ten or eleven, smiling.

“A-Are you okay?” Akira blurted before he could stop himself.

The boy nodded. “I’m fine.”

Futaba was whimpering, huddling behind Yusuke and hiding her face from the sight of the body dangling in the center of the room. The others were doing their best not to look as well, focusing on the kid instead.

“Is… Is that your mother?” Haru asked tentatively.

Akechi’s expression wavered, just a little. “Yes… But I’m fine. Everything is fine. You can go now.”

“No, no, we’re here to help you,” Ann said quickly, taking a step forward. “You can’t want to stay here.”

The young Akechi’s face scrunched up, and it became clear what this mask was. He had to be okay, all the time, because if he wasn’t then he was punished. They’d said the right thing, because the boy shook his head furiously, stumbling back and clutching at his hair. “That’s a lie!” he yelled. “No one wants to help me! No one loves me! I shouldn’t exist!”

The team stared in varying levels of horror. No child should have to feel like that, and this was a piece of Akechi. That meant that somewhere inside him, he _still_ felt like this. Akira’s fists clenched involuntarily, and the younger Akechi flinched back, reaching up to cover his face with his arms.

It took a second to realize what he’d done, and then Akira forced himself to relax. He hated that expression on Akechi, like he was afraid of being struck. But he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to comfort a child so obviously wounded.

“I’m fine,” Akechi insisted, trying to smooth his expression back out. “I’ll be fine. Just leave me alone.”

A flash of green caught his peripheral vision, and Futaba stepped forward, leaning down to look at the younger Akechi. “Hey, Chi-chan,” she said, trying for a normal tone and determinedly looking only at Akechi and not anything behind him. “Look at me, okay?”

Maroon eyes peered up to meet her own, and Futaba patted the top of his head. “It’s scary, right? Feeling like no one’s going to help you. But you don’t have to pretend to be okay.” Her voice wobbled, and she was clearly trying to keep it together. “Sometimes you just can’t see the people that want to help you, because you’re stuck in your own head. But there’s always at least one person.”

The younger Akechi’s eyes flickered to Akira, just for a moment, before focusing back on her face. “I… I…”

“I know,” Futaba said. “It hurts, and it’s scary, and you feel like you can never trust another person ever again. I know. But there’s always a chance for things to get better, as long as someone knows that you’re hurting. There’s always someone who will try their best to save you.”

The boy sniffled, launching forward to throw his arms around Futaba in a hug. She stumbled under the force of it, and awkwardly hugged him back as he started crying. “M-Maybe… Maybe my dad…” Anything else he had to say choked off in a sob, and Futaba carefully hugged him until he vanished, leaving her holding a plain white tragedy mask.

She turned around and realized the Thieves were all staring at her. Her face flushed.

“Don’t misunderstand!” she said loudly. “I’m still mad at him. But that wasn’t… That part of him wasn’t what killed my mom. I can understand that. I know what it’s like to think that there isn’t any help coming...”

She walked over and handed the mask to Crow, who held up his other hand. The comedy mask from before reappeared for just a moment, and then they seemed to merge together, leaving a mask with just a neutral expression. It dissolved back into light, and Crow stared at his empty hands, melancholy.

The scenery around them rumbled, yanking up into the ceiling the way it had last time the sets shifted, and when it settled back to the stage there was only a single door in a long, blank wall, with a single, flickering light above it. It looked ominous, and Futaba called up Necronomicon, trying to scan.

“This area isn’t very big,” she said. “It looks kinda like an apartment, but with a few extra rooms. Or just a really big apartment, I guess.”

“Oracle, your shoes,” Yusuke said suddenly, pointing. 

Futaba glanced down at her feet, where the boots that were part of her metaverse outfit had been replaced by their real-world counterparts. “Oh! Wait… I get it.”

“Get what?” Ryuji said. “Do you know why our clothes have been all weird?”

She nodded eagerly. “We end up in our thief gear when we’re considered a threat to the Palace ruler,” she said. “I didn’t think about it before, but if our clothes look like this, it must be because he can’t tell if we’re a threat or not. And my boots changed because… oh. After that...he must trust me a little more.”

They were all quiet, looking around at each other before finally ending up staring at Akira, who picked at his gloves self-consciously. Apparently even after having his heart broken, Akechi still trusted him more than the others. But then Haru said quietly, “That explains why Oracle and I are mostly in our thief outfits. We are the greatest threat of the group, because he killed our parents.”

“Oh…” Ann whispered, and they fell silent, unsure what to say. Damaged child or not, Akechi was still a murderer, and they were still here to wake him up so that they could get answers.

“Crow,” Akira said after a moment, “did you ever find your father?”

Crow took a shuddering breath. “...that is not something I can answer before my princeling does,” he said, and Akira didn’t push, turning instead to the ominous door. In that case, there was nothing to do but keep going.

Answers would come in time.

***

Futaba’s scans turned out to be exactly right. It was an apartment. It was an apartment Akira recognized right away, because underneath the inch-thick layer of grime that seemed to be coating every surface, it was Akechi’s apartment.

The contrast from the surreally-clean version in the real world and this one was jarring, and they filed quietly into the living room, looking around nervously.

“His perception of his apartment is like this?” Akira asked Crow.

Crow nodded shakily, and Ryuji pointed at a strange stain on the wall. “Is that _blood?_ ”

“There’s more over there,” Ann said anxiously, and the Thieves bunched closer together as they started realizing that not all the grime was dirt and dust. There were also handprints, at least one on everything in the apartment, large and oozing some sort of black liquid. Akira stared at them, trying to figure out why they felt so important, but he was distracted as the door they had come through opened again and Akechi stepped into the apartment.

This Akechi looked half-familiar, wearing the blue-striped outfit and sharp-looking helmet he’d flashed to briefly while they were in Mementos. As he brushed past them to walk further in, they got a better glimpse of the details of the outfit, including the ragged cape and the shackles that seemed to be wrapped around his limbs, trailing lengths of chain that rattled as he moved. But they couldn’t see his face at all, and they didn’t have time to dwell on it, because as he reached the center of the room the apartment erupted into chaos.

Windows banged open and closed on their own, lights flickered, thunder crashed from nowhere. And in the center of the cacophony Akechi stood, seemingly indifferent to the insanity around him.

Futaba screamed suddenly, throwing herself at Akira and hiding her face, and the Thieves looked around in a panic. From the old stains of dried blood, from behind furniture and out of walls and floors, figures were trying to claw themselves free, moaning and crying and bleeding from gunshot wounds.

Morgana jumped four feet straight up into Haru’s arms as one of the figures on the floor grabbed at him, and the Thieves panicked, dancing across the floor and trying to find a safe place to stand. And still Akechi didn’t move, expression unreadable behind his helmet.

Huddling closer to Akechi than they wanted in this circumstance, they tried to look around, tried to figure out what they were supposed to be doing. The figures trying to pull free from the walls and floor were oddly detailed compared to Akechi’s other cognitions. The crowd in the first act had been mostly generic citizens of Tokyo, but these were specific people.

It was Makoto who figured it out first. “These are--!” she gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth. “I’ve seen their pictures before! These are the mental shutdown victims, from Sis’s computer!”

“ _All_ of them?” Haru gasped, immediately looking around the room more intently.

“I-- I think so…” Makoto stammered. “I knew there were a lot that Sis suspected, but… This is…”

“Akechi, is this really how you feel?” Ann called, gesturing around the room.

The black-masked figure of Akechi turned and began to walk away, further into the apartment.

“Oi, Akechi, fucking stop for a second and listen to us!” Ryuji shouted, but he jerked back as Crow laid a hand on his arm.

“He can’t hear you,” Crow said quietly. “He has shut himself down, closed himself off from everything, because it’s the only way to not go mad from the horrors of what he’s done.”

“Horrors,” Akira repeated quietly. To describe it like that...confirmed that Akechi didn’t enjoy killing. That he was swept up in all of this as surely as the rest of them were. Someone was behind all of this, pulling the strings, and it just made him more determined to figure out who it was and put an end to all of this, mental shutdowns and all.

Akechi stopped in the doorway. He didn’t look back at the Thieves, just said lowly, “Shadows are shadows. I am not responsible for what happens to the humans afterwards. All that matters is that I get closer to my revenge.” 

He disappeared through the door, and Haru surprised them all by shrieking, “Come _back!_ You are responsible! They’re dead because of you!”

“Haru!” Makoto cried, but Haru was already chasing after Akechi, heedless of the grasping, reaching victims around them. The Thieves followed her, only to come to a halt in the next room in surprise. Futaba made a strangled sound, sinking to her knees on the floor.

“No, no, no…”

Akechi was standing there quietly, and a woman with black hair and glasses was with him, a hand resting gently against his mask. _“You didn’t know,”_ she said. _“You didn’t know, and then it was too late.”_ She was bleeding from a wound through her heart.

“Stop it!” Futaba screamed. “You don’t get to do that; you don’t get to use some fake version of _my mother_ to make yourself feel better!” She lurched to her feet and lunged for Akechi, Haru a step behind her, but the cognition of Wakaba dispersed, and Akechi just sidestepped around them and carried on. Haru turned on Crow, hefting her axe with a furious expression. 

“Where is my father?!” she demanded. “He must be here too, in this screaming mess!”

Crow took a step back and shook his head. “He isn’t. He isn’t here.”

The bloodlust that had started to fill Haru’s eyes dimmed. “He...isn’t? But that would mean…”

There was a gunshot, from somewhere ahead of them, and they all jumped, anxious and paranoid in the grimy apartment’s atmosphere. There was a sickening sound from somewhere behind them, and Akira swallowed down fear and nausea and beckoned them onwards. “Come on. We have to...keep going.”

They crept forward, shuffling about, no one wanting to be the first through the door. At last Akira steeled himself and pushed it open, stepping into the room beyond. It was a massive office, clearly out of place and not attached to the real equivalent of the apartment. It was covered in the same filth and grime and blood as the apartment, but even thicker, and there was a man sitting at the desk. Or, rather, what used to be a man. Half his face was gone in a gaping gunshot wound, and Akira could hear his friends behind him choking, some outright retching with disgust at the bloody mess. Akira just felt cold, and distantly he knew it was probably shock setting in, but he couldn’t do anything but stare. Something about the man was familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

The man’s hands were covered in thick black liquid, like tar, and Akira started to creep closer to investigate, but then he froze. Akechi was kneeling beside the desk, practically straddling the lap of another cognitive Akira. This one looked completely normal save for scratches and bruises, like he’d been in a fight, until he moved and his bangs shifted enough to show the bloody gunshot wound in his forehead.

Akira couldn’t bring himself to move, uncaring of the body at the desk or his friends behind him. His point of focus had narrowed only to Akechi and the duplicate of himself, as Akechi pulled off the helmet at last and pulled out his gun. He was crying.

“I won,” he said.

The cognitive Akira nodded. “Everything you wanted.”

“Not everything,” Akechi said. “Not everything.”

“Right…” cognitive Akira said, with a tiny smile that looked completely like the real thing. “Not me.”

“You have to understand.” Akechi leaned forward, wrapping his arms around cognitive Akira’s shoulders, heedless of the blood trailing lines down his pale, pale face.

“I do.”

“You’d never forgive me.”

“I would,” the real Akira whispered, too afraid to speak any louder. The cognitive said nothing, and Akira wondered if it was because Akechi was afraid to know the answer.

“There’s nothing left now. I won. It’s over,” Akechi said. “There’s...no point in staying here.”

Akira realized what he was about to do a split second before he did it, as Akechi sat back and lifted his gun. He screamed, feeling his voice break, feeling his teammates grabbing at him as he tried to lunge forward, but all he could hear was the echo of the gunshot as the piece of Akechi crumpled to the floor. Ryuji and Yusuke were holding his arms in an iron grip, and he thrashed, struggling against them until his wild eyes found Crow.

“You wouldn’t,” he said, hysteria coating the edges of the words. “Y-You wouldn’t. You were...planning to make it out...of whatever plan you had...right?”

Crow wouldn’t meet his eyes. “My wishes… are not strong enough to override the rest of our will.”

Akira made a pained sound. This was the worst thing he could have found. Of all the depths of Akechi that he’d known he’d never seen, this hurt the worst. He had never realized how much Akechi was suffering. Never realized how many masks he wore.

_I’m going to save him. If it’s the last thing I do._

Somewhere behind them, there was a crash, and the walls of the sets collapsed under the force of the monster that rose up to meet them, a spotlight illuminating it. It was grotesque, an amalgam of screaming faces and clawing arms, the mental shutdown victims come together into something horrible.

“It’s like the cognition of Futaba’s mother, in the Pyramid!” Morgana called. “It’s become a monster!”

Haru’s eyes glinted. “Nothing that we can’t handle,” she said sharply, her anger from earlier still tempered to a fine point.

Ryuji dragged Akira backwards, catching Ann with his other hand and pulling her along too, and Akira realized in a moment of clarity that Ann was hyperventilating.

“You two sit this one out,” Ryuji said firmly, pushing them both away from the battle as the others charged in.

“No, I--” Akira began, but Ryuji jabbed a finger at him.

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Joker. You’re not fine. Neither of you are fine, damn it.”

Abruptly Akira remembered that Ann had once watched someone she cared about do almost the same thing. He sucked in a breath, trying to get his bearings and tune out the cacophony of battle. “Ryuji…”

“Shit, I’m really not good at this,” Ryuji muttered, but he wrapped an arm around Ann to keep her stable and frowned at Akira. “Look, Mona keeps tellin’ us Palaces are distorted cognition, yeah? So this isn’t what he’d think if he was normal. His perception’s convinced his stupid brain that the real world is this shitty, that the real you hates him, that he’s got no choices. So if we steal his Treasure and fix it, it’ll be okay. Right?”

“R-Right…” Akira managed.

“Right,” Ryuji repeated, before turning his attention to Ann. “C’mon, Panther, breathe. It’s okay. It’s not real.”

She took a long, shuddering breath, and blurted, “I want to leave. I can’t do any more of this today!”

Akira swallowed hard. “I think… I think we’ve all had enough. We’ll go after this…”

***

The monster turned out to be weak to guns, in a horrifyingly ironic tactic, and the other five Thieves plus Crow managed to bring it down after a harrowing fight. Everyone was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and after Crow retrieved the mask that had been left behind by the fallen Akechi, no one was sure what to say. The mask was smooth and blank, no eyes or nose or mouth, just a sticky black handprint marring the surface. Akira glanced once again at the dead man behind the desk, but then sighed.

“We’re done for today.”

No one argued, and Crow bid them a silent farewell as they shifted back to the real world, Leblanc’s attic looking almost alien after all they had seen.

The girls left first, stopping only to inform Sojiro that Futaba was staying over at Haru’s with all of them. Yusuke and Ryuji excused themselves after that, with Ryuji promising to take them out for ramen. He’d offered to to pay for Akira, too, but Akira waved him off, insisting he’d be fine. That left the leader of the Thieves to thump downstairs on heavy legs, taking a seat at the counter and practically withering under Sojiro’s concerned gaze.

The cafe owner walked over to flip the sign, then poured two cups of coffee and came around to sit beside Akira.

“I know this is Phantom Thieves business, and I normally wouldn’t ask, but all of you kids look wrecked in a way I’ve never seen you. And Akechi-kun wasn’t here. Did something happen?”

Akira hesitated, but Morgana hopped up into his lap, nudging his stomach insistantly. “Talk to him. If you’re not going with your friends, at least talk to him.”

Akira laid a hand on Morgana’s back as the cat curled up on him, taking a slow sip of coffee before looking at Sojiro. Slowly, fumbling over the words, he started to tell Sojiro as much as he could.

And god, did it feel like bleeding poison out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ _“Here lies everything… The world I wanted at my feet… My victory’s complete…”_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bN-Z9caukSI)
> 
> Petition to never allow me to write anything with guns ever again because I can’t be trusted not to do terrible things all the time.
> 
> Anyway. Uh. The last verse of the song I linked probably doesn’t apply, but the first two punched me so hard in the face when I listened to it for the first time in forever that I legitimately think I stopped breathing for a second. Yeah. The other playlist song is [this](https://youtu.be/V1-VYpUY0U0?t=46s), which isn’t the normal version, but I like Daughtry and I like the duet version and think it applies very well to literally everything that’s happening here.
> 
> Akechi basically destroyed the third act’s mask himself. Which...is exactly what he’s intending to do in reality, I suppose. In his current mindset, anyway.
> 
> I’m kind of at a loss for what to say, so I’ll...just wait until you all start yelling, I suppose. ^_^;;;
> 
> Next chapter: Act 4 - There’s something left the Thieves don’t know about Akechi, and one piece of Akechi they haven’t seen yet. A very angry piece that’s not too fond of Crow...


	38. November 10th, 2016

After everything that they’d seen in the Palace, Akira ordered everyone to take a day off to recuperate. He knew that he was in no shape to lead. Ann was still shaken when he met her on the way to school. Haru and Futaba barely said two words to anyone. There was no way they would be able to keep going without putting themselves at greater risk. So another day passed by, and after school on Thursday the Thieves trailed into Leblanc, still melancholy but mostly put-together. Resting longer probably would have been best, but they were running out of time.

Sojiro was waiting, two thermoses of fresh coffee and a newly-bought box of protein bars sitting on the counter for them.

To say that Sojiro was less than pleased was an understatement. He, like Futaba, _liked_ Akechi. He’d thought the kid was too grown-up for his age, but ‘murderer’ was never a thought that had crossed his mind. ‘Traitor’ was never a thought that had crossed his mind.

And certainly he’d never imagined that the polite kid that came in to get coffee and always seemed too tired was the one that had killed Wakaba. Was (had been?) plotting to kill Akira.

But he’d listened when Akira had started talking that night, not interrupting. He’d been quiet as Akira rambled on about theatres and monsters and foster homes, until Akira had reached the last things that had happened and his voice broke. And he’d agreed to wait for them to wake Akechi up, to hear the truth from him. Akira was grateful, because he wasn’t sure if he could handle his guardian’s disapproval on top of everything else.

But Sojiro just waved them upstairs with a reminder to be careful, and the Thieves crowded into Akira’s attic, unprepared but knowing they couldn’t waste any more days.

“Do we know anything about what the next act is?” Makoto asked, as Akira double-checked their supplies and pulled out his phone.

“As long as it’s not as bad as that apartment, I don’t really care,” Ryuji huffed. “That was effed up.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it,” Akira said pointedly. “Look, we agreed, we’re not going to discuss things until this is over. We just need to focus on getting through the Palace for now.” He activated the nav, sending the world wavering around them, and they appeared center-stage in the Theatre once again.

The sets had shifted while they were gone, backdrops and setpieces this time unable to completely mimic the curves and overall smoother edges of Mementos. But that was clearly what it was meant to be, bluish walls with trailing red veins and fake train tracks criss-crossing the floor.

Crow greeted them quietly, seeming to know instinctively that they were more wary of the Theatre in general now. So they ventured into the maze of fake tunnels without fanfare, keeping an eye out for anything strange. But there was nothing noteworthy, until they encountered the first shadow.

It was a Power, similar to the other shadows they’d encountered in a few of the sets, but there was something off about it. A strange dark haze clung to most of its form, and when it attacked, it was far more aggressive than any normal shadow they’d faced. 

“Wow,” Futaba said, hanging back as Necronomicon scanned it. “It’s power level is through the roof. It’s way stronger than a normal shadow. Be careful, everyone!”

Akira stepped up to lead the main attack, letting Arsène keep it beaten back with curse magic so that the rest of the team could close in to finish it off. It seemed...less intelligent than a normal shadow. Shadows usually at least attempted some sort of strategy. They would aim for the Thieves’ weaknesses if they could get at them, and sometimes even worked together. But this shadow seemed to be just attacking mindlessly, enraged at something they couldn’t possibly understand. And despite its increased strength, it barely tried to protect itself, so once they could land enough hits it went down as easily as usual.

“That was quite odd,” Yusuke commented. “It fought with a madness I have never seen from a shadow before.”

“Something’s not right,” Akira said. “We need to be careful, especially if shadows like that start showing up in groups.”

As they made their way deeper into the set, it gave up even trying to resemble Mementos in terms of shape. The normal twisting corridors settled into a more standard labyrinth, all right angles and high walls, leaving the Thieves to wander the maze, uncertain of what they were even looking for. Supposedly another piece of Akechi was here, but they hadn’t seen even a glimmer of him. There were only more shadows, each fighting with a deranged anger that the Thieves couldn’t explain.

It felt like they’d been in the maze for ages when Akira finally called them to a stop in a safe corner. They passed around one of the thermoses so that everyone could have a bit of coffee, and Akira turned to Crow. “Are you allowed to tell us why these shadows are so crazed? I can tell it’s not normal, but… I don’t get it.”

Crow had gotten hold of the thermos and taken a long sip, and there was a tiny, happy smile on his face. He always refused to use any of their supplies for himself, unless he’d gotten truly injured, but coffee seemed to be the one exception he’d make. Akira felt a pang watching him, remembering better days with Akechi at Leblanc. But then Crow handed the thermos on to Ryuji and said, “Before we met you, Joker, we assumed that you had special powers.”

“Special powers?” Akira questioned, not sure what that had to do with the shadows. “You mean, my personas?”

“No.” Crow shook his head. “When we first saw the Phantom Thieves, we theorized that the ability to change a heart was a power innate to you, rather than a process that anyone could manage if they knew the proper series of actions to make it possible. We thought it was something that Arsène could do to a shadow, to induce that kind of change.” His expression was unreadable, and he looked around the group before focusing back on Akira. “How ridiculous, we thought, that you would need a whole team to help you use your power. We didn’t. We could use ours on our own.”

“Are you saying that Akechi-kun has some sort of power to directly affect a shadow?” Makoto asked, her eyes wide.

Crow smiled blandly. “The mental shutdowns are not the most public of the incidents that have been occuring, are they?”

“Well, no, there’s the psychotic breakdowns…” Ryuji began, and then his mouth fell open. “Holy shit, can Akechi turn people psychotic?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Crow acknowledged. “I have no such powers of my own, but my counterpart possesses an ability to break the chains restraining a person’s inner shadow, allowing their innermost impulses and emotions to take over. That those innermost impulses are often violent is...outside of our scope. Our power merely breaks the chains; what the person does afterwards depends on them.”

“That’s awful,” Haru said.

Crow glanced at her, frowning. “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. How often have you wished someone harm in a moment of anger? Removing your inhibitions to act on a feeling does not change the feeling that was already there.”

Haru just stared at him coldly, and Akira stepped between them. “Not now, guys,” he said. “The important thing is that these shadows have no qualms about attacking, we can’t negotiate with them, and… whatever piece of Akechi is Loki is here somewhere.”

“Why a labyrinth, though?” Futaba said. “He doesn’t seem much like a mythology nerd.”

“We’re getting close,” Crow said. “The classical labyrinth was built to keep what was in the center away from everyone else. Even without being a ‘mythology nerd’, we know the story. And he is trying to protect us.” 

Morgana walked over to tap at one of the walls, peering upwards towards the ceiling to look at the position of the stage lights. “If we can figure out which way the center is, can’t we just smash the backdrops like we did in the other set?”

It wasn’t really a question, more just thinking out loud, but Crow didn’t object, and Haru hefted her axe. “I don’t want to stay in this place any longer than necessary.”

The walls of the stage version of Mementos gave way with the ominous crunching of splintered wood as they determined a direction and set out to smash their way to the center of the maze. Akira was torn between being worried about not playing by the rules, and thinking it was fair play. After all, how often had he danced through conversations with Akechi, winding around and around through a maze of words all while wishing he could just directly _ask_ things?

They finally smashed their way to a long hall that ended in a wide-open square at the center of the maze. And standing there, a manic grin on his face, was another Akechi. This one was also in the striped outfit, but without the helmet that would normally obscure his features. It seemed silly to refer to him as ‘Black Mask’ when he wasn’t wearing one, but it was clear from the look in his eyes that this was where that part of him came from.

“Stay back, Phantom Thieves,” he warned as they approached. “I’m not letting you anywhere near our shadow.”

“This is it, isn’t it?” Akira asked. “Whatever the next act is, that’s where we find the shadow, right?”

“No. Because you’re not living long enough to make it there.” Black Mask’s grin widened. “Did he tell you about what I can do? Do you know what you’re up against?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Akira said.

The doppelganger’s face contorted with rage. “What do you know? You’ve been wandering around with _him_ , but he’s not everything!” he snarled. “This pretty, princely bit that’s Robin, that’s all well and good, but _I’m_ part of Akechi Goro too! There’s no way that _I’m_ what you’re trying to save!”

“I told you back in act one that I wanted every side of you,” Akira countered. “And that includes this. I get why you’re angry, but we’re going to help you. We’ll get you away from whoever’s making you do thi--”

But Black Mask cut him off with a hysterical laugh. “Get us away? We don’t want to get _away_. We want him _dead!_ We want him the highest he can be, and then when the whole world is watching, we want him to grovel and break and die! He’ll finally have to acknowledge us, and then he can pay for his crimes with his life!”

All of them were stunned, unsure how to respond in the face of such outright hatred and anger. Black Mask took a menacing step forward, his eyes glinting in a way that made them look blood-red in the lighting, and lifted a hand to point at the Thieves. “What about you?” he asked mockingly. “Do any of you know what it’s like, to have that much hate and have to push it away, chain it up, stop feeling it so that the people around you won’t punish you for it? _Do you?_ ”

Akira swallowed hard. “...I think we might know more than you think,” he said, and Black Mask sneered.

“Is this where you give me the clichés? The platitudes? The offers of friendship?” he laughed. “Go to hell, attic trash. Ever since you and your band of fools showed up, you’ve just made everything harder! You’ve just made everything hurt worse! So just disappear!” From a sheath on his back he pulled a long, serrated red sword and lunged directly for Akira, who just barely got his knife up in time to block.

“We’re trying to _help_ you!” Akira cried, using the notch on his knife to force the sword far enough away for him to jump out of range. “You can’t stay in pieces like this!”

“We wouldn’t _be_ in pieces if you hadn’t interfered!” Black Mask shouted. “This is all your fault! All of your damn thieving; if you had just left well enough alone, our plan would have succeeded! But no, you just had to poke your nose in until we got attached! Until it ruined us!”

Ryuji dashed up behind him, taking a swing at his head with his bat, but Black Mask ducked and lashed out with the sword, forcing Ryuji to dodge or end up with his insides all over the floorboards. “And what woulda happened after your plan, huh?” Ryuji demanded, as Yusuke and Haru tried to pin him in by attacking from both sides. “We saw the last act. We know how that woulda ended up!”

“Shut up, shut up!” Black Mask screamed. “It wouldn’t have mattered! We would have been content; we had nothing to lose! But you gave us something that it would hurt to lose and then you ripped it away!” He dodged with surprising speed, forcing Haru and Yusuke to stumble and lose their balance as they struggled not to crash into each other.

He threw up a hand, and fire blazed up all around him, spreading outwards and driving the Thieves back. It washed over Akira in a painful wave, and when he finally managed to look up, there was a ring of fire blazing all around, separating him and Black Mask from the other Thieves. Akira forced himself to his feet, feeling the sting of burns he didn’t have time to heal yet, and faced his opponent.

“You’re the head of the snake,” Black Mask said coldly. “If I let you live, you’ll try to stop us.”

“I want to help you find another way,” Akira entreated. “A better way.”

“Stupid, heroic Joker, always thinking he knows what’s best. Why don’t you listen for once and just _get out of the way?_ ” Black Mask charged forward, an eerie glow around his sword as he screamed, _"Laevateinn!”_

But Akira was ready, this time. He was already dodging, and as Black Mask shot past him he turned on his heel, reaching for his mask. _"Swords Dance!”_

The spectral swords were visible for just a moment, spinning in midair before impaling Black Mask and sending him to the floor. He didn’t get up, his breathing ragged, and the ring of fire started to die down as Akira walked over to look down at him.

“Please,” Akira said, very quietly. “I know that it’s hard, but please, just trust me. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Black Mask wheezed, but didn’t fight when Akira dropped to his knees and lifted him to rest against his legs instead of on the unforgiving floor. It was a strange contrast, the unreal-looking metaverse outfit against Akira’s plaid uniform pants, but he laid an arm over Black Mask’s chest and sighed.

“I don’t care,” he said quietly, so his team wouldn’t hear even as they ventured closer. “I don’t care what you’ve done. That’s probably stupid, but I know that you put on this mask of being a villain because you’re trying to protect yourself. Let me help you, please.”

The false Akechi’s eyes widened. “You’re such an idiot… You should just get rid of me so I can’t cause you any more trouble.”

“Not going to happen,” Akira said. “I’m _your_ idiot, after all.”

Black Mask stared at him incredulously, but then bristled as the others reached them and Crow stepped forward. He looked up at his twin and spat, “Are you happy now that you’ve gotten them all the way here? You’re just going to let them see everything?”

“We both want to protect us,” Crow said quietly. “We both want us to be happy.”

Black Mask reached up to grip Akira’s arm where it lay across him. “Your ideas about happiness just end up hurting us!” he cried. “You wanted the Trickster, even though you knew we were going to have to kill him!”

“I was hopeful that he would find another way,” Crow replied evenly. “And he is offering to help us. I believe that if anyone can take care of our prince, he can.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s up against.” Black Mask struggled to sit up, but he looked resigned.

“We just have to trust him.”

Akira helped Black Mask stagger to his feet, slightly overwhelmed by two identical Akechis in opposing metaverse outfits. The twin pieces of Akechi’s heart stared at each other for a long moment, and then they turned to the Thieves as the stage began to rumble, as if in an earthquake.

“Normally I’d be impressed that you made it all the way here, but you had help,” Black Mask said, one hand on his hip.

“Brace yourselves,” Crow added, and the labyrinth practically exploded, sets shooting into the air with far more violence than any of the transitions they’d seen so far. The lights went out entirely, leaving them to clutch onto each other in the dark as a din of crashing noises and grinding machinery filled the air above them. Makoto and Futaba screamed as something crashed to the ground nearby, and Ryuji had grabbed Yusuke’s arm somewhere along the way, tight enough to cut off his circulation, thinking back to the panic of Kamoshida’s Castle collapsing all around them, not knowing if they were going to get out before the rubble fell and crushed them.

They could just barely make out the twin Akechis standing impassively, apparently just waiting for everything to stop once again. And when the Theatre finally went quiet and the lights came back up, all of them looked around curiously.

It was a single room, roughly fifty feet square. Unlike the other sets, this one didn’t appear to be anywhere specific. Akira recognized something that looked vaguely like part of Aiyatsbus’s safe room, a piece of some kind of restaurant, and parts of what looked like the planetarium, all coming together into a patchwork of tall walls that blocked their view of the rest of the stage. As he looked closer, he picked out plain stone walls in a familiar blue shade, and many, many pieces of Leblanc. It all seemed to be bits of places that Akechi thought of fondly. And then Ann yelped, and Akira was completely distracted from the sets by the play’s lead role making his appearance at last.

Akechi’s shadow was a child. He looked maybe three or four, standing there staring at them with wide shadow-gold eyes. He was dressed in a tiny Featherman costume, Red Hawk’s, but instead of the mask he was wearing a prince’s cape and circlet. Akira barely knew what to say, but as he met the shadow’s gaze with his own, he realized that it made sense. A shadow was someone’s suppressed side, after all. And the deepest, darkest part of Akechi, buried at the bottom of his heart and mind, was the sad, lonely child that had spent his whole life longing to be loved.

He took a step forward before he’d realized he was doing it, and Shadow Goro turned and ran, sprinting to the other side of the room. There was a plain futon there, and sitting on it was the woman they’d seen before, in act three. But this time she was smiling, alive, and she welcomed the child into her arms even as a hazy shape began to take form beside them.

Akira wanted to get closer, to try to talk to the shadow. He had a feeling that this woman was Akechi’s Treasure, but before he could move Crow and Black Mask were in front of him, blue and red swords held loosely.

“We trust you,” Crow said, very quietly.

“But if you do anything to hurt our shadow, we won’t offer any mercy,” Black Mask warned.

“I won’t,” Akira promised, more sincere than he’d ever felt in his life. But as they stepped out of the way, the hazy shape that had been coalescing stepped forward, resolving itself into the black silhouette of a man. It looked like he was wearing some sort of helmet, maybe a cape, but with no detail penetrating the inky figure it was hard to tell. All Akira was aware of was that his team had moved to his back, ready to fight.

“He’s still trying to protect himself, even now,” Haru murmured. “Is this like that giant robot my father had?”

Yusuke glanced from the figure to Shadow Goro, who was clinging to the woman - his mother - fearfully. “I get the sense that he is more afraid of that thing than we are,” he said.

As the figure completely solidified, the darkness began to bleed down it, like water running off of glass. It revealed a man with tinted glasses, wearing strange, elaborate armor and a matching helmet that strongly resembled a crown. The king to the child-shadow’s prince, obviously. Akira stared at him, something flickering dimly in his memory, but then the man opened his mouth and roared at them, before beginning to grow. He got taller and taller, until he towered over the Thieves, much taller than anything other than an open-topped set would accommodate. The sets themselves were falling away, the oversized room opening out to leave them in the center of the almost-empty stage, with seven freestanding pillars in a loose half-circle as their only props. The spotlights all swung down to illuminate the massive man, and Akira realized that both Crow and Black Mask had shrunk back.

Futaba screeched, finally placing who the figure looked like. “That’s Lord Zero, from the first season of Featherman R!” The Thieves scrambled back, just barely able to catch a glimpse of Shadow Goro burying himself into his mother’s lap fearfully. Futaba called Necronomicon, leaping up into her persona and beginning a scan. **“Or, wait, it’s not Lord Zero, it’s whoever this is, dressed as him. Lord Zero’s more purple. Pretty good cosplay, though.”**

“Oracle, that’s great and all, but he’s eighty feet tall and we don’t have Featherzords!” Akira said urgently.

“What are we supposed to do if we can’t form a megazord?” Haru asked, outing herself as a Featherman fan as well.

 **“Our personas should be enough, or maybe we can find something here,”** Futaba said sharply. **“But guys, we gotta protect the little guy!”**

“Ain’t he the reason this thing’s attacking us in the first place?” Ryuji yelled, diving to one side as the massive armored man tried to stomp on them.

Necronomicon hummed as it zipped out of the way, taking Futaba with it. **“No, he’s not doing this… Well, not really. It’s another cognitive that’s gone out of control, like my mom!”**

Akira’s eyes widened. This was it, this was the answer, the thing that was tormenting Akechi. If he was right, and that woman, Akechi’s mother, was the Treasure… Then this monster of a man had to be…

“Crow!” he shouted. “Is that your father?!”

Crow looked like he was choking on the answer, and Black Mask shoved him out of the way as the king tried once again to step on them. When no one got caught under his foot, he glared down at them all with vicious eyes and pulled a massive broadsword from behind his back, sweeping it across the floor.

 _“Fuck!”_ Ryuji yelled, as they were all forced to jump it or roll under it. Akira hit the ground hard, already knowing his shoulder was going to bruise, and was back on his feet as quickly as he could manage. He’d lost sight of Shadow Goro in the panic of the cognitive attacking, and didn’t see him or his mother anywhere. But then a frightened cry caught his attention, and he spotted the child on his knees, hands over his head as if trying to protect himself, right in the path of the giant’s footsteps.

“Arsène!” Akira roared, pointing at Shadow Goro. His persona burst to life, shooting across the room and snatching the child out of the way of the cognitive’s rampage. Shadow Goro wailed, but Arsène’s hold was gentle, and he returned across the room to drop the shadow safely into Akira’s arms.

Akira stared down into golden eyes, momentarily caught off-guard by the pleading in them. But he was forced to dodge another attack, keeping them both safe. Moving as quickly as he could, he ran towards the back of the stage, setting Shadow Goro on his feet once they were close enough to the back curtain. He cupped the child’s cheek in one hand and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Go hide,” he said, very softly. “Be safe. We’re going to get rid of that thing, and then everything will be over.”

Shadow Goro stared at him in unfiltered wonder, his mouth open in a tiny, surprised ‘o’. Akira smiled at him, but then his eyes widened in amazement as his gloves melted away to absolutely nothing, leaving him in just his mask and his normal clothes. That meant...Goro no longer saw him as any kind of threat. In the depths of his heart, he believed that Akira, at least, wasn’t going to hurt him.

He turned back to the fight with renewed resolve. “Everyone, we have to take that thing down as quickly as we can, before it can cause any damage. We need to hit it with everything we’ve got!”

 **“It’s not weak to anything specific,”** Futaba said. **“You’ll just have to wear it down. Here come the buffs!”**

They all felt the energy fill them as Futaba’s all-kaja swept across the stage, and Akira drew his knife and felt his friends ready themselves to attack.

Spells filled the air, a maelstrom of fire and lightning and wind, ice and radiation and psychic force. Akira threw swords dance and eigaon, and was grateful that Black Mask and Crow were on their side as kougaon and Laevateinn landed as well. But the king shrugged off everything they threw at it, taking absolutely no visible damage from even their strongest skills.

Ryuji took a bad hit from the broadsword and ended up knocked out cold. Crow and Makoto dragged him away from the fight so that Crow could revive him, and Akira glanced up at Necronomicon. “Futaba! Nothing’s working! You didn’t say he nullified everything!”

 **“He doesn’t! Hang on, let me try…”** Futaba’s voice said in his ear. Akira waved the others to dodge as best they could, waiting for her results, and finally she said, **“He’s got some kind of shield on him. He’s got basically no health, but the shield’s impervious to regular attacks.”**

“H-How do we beat this thing, then?” Haru cried.

“There has to be something here we can use,” Yusuke said. “Akechi cannot believe this person, whoever he is, is indestructible.”

“No, but there’s a lot protecting him,” Black Mask snarled. “That’s why we’ve been like this for so long.”

“What’s that?” Ann asked suddenly, pointing at one of the pillars. “There’s diamonds or something up there.”

They had to dodge another attack, but as they darted around the stage, they tried to see what Ann was talking about. On each pillar, facing the center of the semicircle, there was a colored diamond shape, one of each color of the rainbow. Most of them just looked confused, but Makoto lit up.

“Oracle! I know this one!” she yelled. “It’s a crystal switch! We have to hit the crystal switches!”

Futaba’s disappointed groan filled their ears. **“I should have known that! Good to know all that Ocarina of Ages you’ve been playing came in handy. But they’re high up; we need a ranged weapon and most of you are out of ammo because of all those psychotic Powers.”**

“I can handle this.” Crow stepped forward, drawing a shining golden bow from nowhere, and as he pulled the string back a bolt formed from glowing light. Catching the Thieves’ incredulous stares, he smirked. “I am Robin Hood, remember?”

“Show-off,” Black Mask muttered.

“Don’t just stare at him, get moving!” Futaba cried, as the giant cognition turned on them again.

“Crow, aim for the switches. Everyone else, get ready to move!” Akira ordered, and they scattered to draw fire so that Crow could get the shot off.

The shining arrow flew straight and true, hitting dead-center on the purple, diamond-shaped crystal. A path of violet light formed, spiralling down to the floor from the top of the pillar, and Makoto waved at Haru, who was closest. “Go! Try it!”

Haru tentatively rested her weight on the bottom of the ramp, eyes widening when the shimmering, translucent path supported her. Without wasting another moment, she hurried upwards, stepping onto the top of the pillar where a violet wand was waiting on a pedestal. She stared at it for a second, then as the switch’s timer ran out and the path disappeared, she took a chance and grabbed it, pointing it at the king.

A beam of violet light the same color as the path shot towards the massive cognition, striking it in the chest and causing it to reel back. Everyone froze to watch, and Futaba cried, **“That weakened the shield a little!”**

Crow whirled and loosed another arrow at another one of the switches. It hit the green switch, and Morgana raced for it, finding another wand and adding his own beam to the attack. Knowing what they had to do now, the Thieves were ready. Black Mask stepped in to keep the cognitive distracted, to keep it from attacking the Thieves atop their pillars, and Crow focused on activating each switch in turn to get them up there. Yusuke and Ann had no trouble reaching blue and orange, Ryuji barely made it up the yellow pillar, and Makoto sprinted for indigo. Each beam knocked the giant a bit farther back, caused it to slump a bit more as its protection was taken away. Akira was the last, spending most of his time helping Black Mask keep his friends safe, and once they were all clear and the only remaining switch was the red one, he met Black Mask’s gaze and grinned. “You’re both coming with me.”

“Idiot,” Black Mask said, but he grinned back, calling to Crow, “Get ready to run!”

Crow took a deep breath, then lifted his bow for the last time and drew it back. “Ready!”

The arrow was a bullseye, and all three of them sprinted for the path of red light that appeared. Akira and Black Mask got there first, scrambling to the top as quickly as they could. Crow was a step behind, and as the switch’s timer ran out and the path deactivated, they both reached out to grab one of his arms, hauling him up with them.

The red wand sat there, waiting to be activated and used alongside the rainbow of its counterparts, and they all looked at it. The cognition was already writhing under the force of the six other beams, and Ann looked over from where she was holding the orange wand and yelled, “Hurry up, Joker!”

Akira grabbed the wand, and Crow made a startled noise. “You’re not going to finish it off? One of us could…”

But Akira just smirked, lifting the wand dramatically and letting the beam join the others, causing the king to practically crumple forward. “This is your monster,” he said. “In the end, you believed you could save yourself with help, right? We’re helping, so _go_. End this.”

Crow and Black Mask exchanged a look, and then both drew their swords, standing side-by-side at the edge of the pillar. They nodded to each other and then leaped together for the cognition, their blue and red blades glowing brightly. As one, they rammed their swords into the monstrous giant’s head, and it roared in anger and pain before collapsing to the floorboards and slowly dissipating into darkness. Crow and Black Mask landed on the floor as well, looking stunned at what they had done, and the other Thieves gradually made their way back to ground level as well, looking around incredulously.

“Is… Is it over?”

Crow looked over to where Shadow Goro was hiding in a fold of the curtain, beckoning him over. When he was close enough, Crow picked him up, cradling him against his shoulder with a gentle hand in his hair. “Go on,” he said to Akira, a faint, sad smile on his face. He gestured to the center of the stage, where a faded photograph was lying on the floor. “Take it. It’s what you came for.” He pressed his lips to the child’s forehead, and Shadow Goro sniffled, clinging to the gold braid of his jacket with tearful golden eyes. Black Mask walked over as well, hovering protectively beside them.

Akira shook his head. He’d been thinking about this since the third act they’d finished, after watching that and remembering something Akechi had said to him during Okumura’s Palace. “It’s not. I came here for _you_. I’m not going to steal your Treasure.”

“Joker?!” The rest of the Thieves let out a confused babble of questions, and Akira held up a hand until they were quiet.

“We can’t steal his heart,” he said. “It’ll kill him.”

The Thieves fell silent, not sure what he meant, and Shadow Goro stared at him with fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. Crow raised an eyebrow, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “An interesting deduction,” he said slowly. “Explain?”

Akira swallowed hard. “The others… Kamoshida, Madarame, everyone… They didn’t regret what they did. Before we defeated them and got hold of the Treasure, no part of them ever showed that they knew what they were doing was wrong. And when we changed their hearts, the guilt of what they’d done was enough to break them. Kamoshida got up onstage in front of our entire school and said he was going to kill himself to make up for what he had done.” He took a deep breath. “But you… You already know that what you’re doing is wrong. You already feel bad, but you’re trapped, and you’re desperate, and you let yourself get blinded by revenge. All of those screaming shadows during the third act are proof enough of that. If we take your heart and take down what little armor you have left, we’d just be piling guilt atop guilt. I...don’t want to risk what that would do to you.”

“Kamoshida did say that, didn’t he?” Ryuji said. “I kind of hate to say it, but you’re right. If we change Akechi’s heart, he might actually try to off himself.”

“Skull!” Ann cried, but the damage had been done. Shadow Goro let out a frightened whimper at the bluntly-spoken possibility and burrowed his face against Crow’s shoulder, a muffled sob escaping him. Black Mask scowled, stepping between them and the Thieves with his hand twitching for his sword.

“What do we do, then? We can’t just leave things like this,” Makoto said.

Crow said nothing, just watching them with attentive eyes and soothing the crying shadow in his arms. Akira looked from his teammates to the shards of Akechi’s heart, and said slowly, “I think, because you’re him, not a cognitive… If you acknowledge your own Treasure, acknowledge what desire it is that’s driving you forward… We won’t have to take it. You can change your heart on your own.” He looked back at the others. “And that helps us too; we’ll know for sure that we can change a heart without stealing the Treasure, without crippling the person, and we can get Niijima-san to help us when we finish her Palace too.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Haru said.

“Then the Palace will still be here, and we come back and we take the photo.”

She frowned. “That’s not what I meant. We have put Akechi-kun back together again. Those two and his shadow possess all of the other masks of his heart as well. What if we have simply given him back access to his personas and destroyed his Palace, without changing anything? We will have no recourse left to try again.”

“The Palace won’t collapse immediately if the Treasure is still here,” Morgana said confidently. “If his heart really does change, it’ll fade gradually, but it won’t crumble like the others have.”

“I want to try,” Akira said, and even though he tried not to sound like he was pleading, it leaked into his voice just a little.

Ann and Ryuji nodded to each other and then smiled at him. “We’re with you on this, Leader. It’s worth a shot.”

“Me too,” Morgana said, and Yusuke nodded.

“He cannot give us any answers if he is unconscious even longer waiting for a normal change of heart to take effect.”

“All right…” Makoto agreed. “If figuring this out will help with Sis’s Palace…”

That left Haru and Futaba, who both looked reluctant. Akira turned to them beseechingly. “Oracle, Noir?”

Futaba chewed her lip awkwardly. “I dunno if I can forgive him, but everything I’ve seen in here makes me think something’s definitely up. I want to hear his version of things, and he has to be awake for that.”

Haru wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. “He may not have killed my father, but he _would_ have. And he would have killed Joker. I will hear him out, but I do not promise any sort of positive response to him.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive him or like him,” Akira said. “I have no control over how you feel or react. I’m asking you to give him a chance to wake up and explain things. That’s all.”

Haru rested her axe on the stage and leaned against it. “I can do that.”

That made it unanimous, and Akira turned to Crow, Black Mask, and Shadow Goro. “We won’t take the Treasure,” he said firmly. “I believe that you can change your heart on your own, now that you’ve recognized your own distortion.” He smiled, realizing and blurting it out without thinking, “Like Futaba did.”

Crow looked down at Shadow Goro, then back at Akira, and Black Mask sighed. “Give him here.” He scooped the child from Crow’s arms, holding him close. Crow smiled gratefully and stepped forward, leaning in to brush his lips against Akira’s cheek.

“We love you,” he murmured, very quietly. “We love you so much that it hurts us, because we have been terrified of and resigned to the fact that we cannot keep you.”

Akira pushed his mask away from his face, smiling at Crow. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Crow took a step back, as he, Black Mask, and Shadow Goro began to dissolve into motes of light. “I will be holding you to that, Joker… And, don’t make fun of him too much for that last fight.” He smiled back, and as he disappeared, all the debris that covered the stage from the fight vanished as well, leaving a clear shot to the exit point.

“Exit stage left?” Yusuke said, and Futaba groaned.

“Inariiiiii, we made it this whole Palace without a theatre quip and you ruined it!”

“That’s completely false. I told Noir to break a leg earlier.”

“Both of you, be quiet and let’s go!” Makoto ordered, and the group high-tailed it for the exit, leaving the faintly-glowing photograph behind in the center of the stage.

***

When they rematerialized in Leblanc’s attic, dim with early evening light, Akira told them to go home for the day. They all needed to eat dinner, get some rest, and take time to process. But he didn’t even stick around to see if they actually listened, barely pausing long enough for Morgana to jump into his bag before he grabbed it and was on his way to the clinic.

Takemi locked the door behind him, letting him into the room where Akechi was still unconscious, an IV in his arm and a cool cloth on his forehead.

“His condition hasn’t changed,” she said. “But he’s stable. You can stay for a little while; I don’t mind being here late.”

“Thank you,” Akira said, and she left him alone in the exam room. He pulled up a chair, sitting down beside the bed, and Morgana climbed out of his bag to perch on the corner and knead the blanket. “Morgana… Do you think I did the right thing? Do you think it worked?”

“I think it did,” Morgana said reassuringly. “He’ll wake up in his own time; he was in pieces, after all.”

Akira frowned, settling into the chair and watching Akechi’s peacefully sleeping face. He stayed for over an hour, just watching. Morgana eventually dozed off, curled on another chair across the room, and Akira could feel his own body demanding food and sleep as well after the harrowing fights in the Palace. But he refused to leave. He didn’t want Akechi to wake up alone.

He had almost dozed off himself when he noticed Akechi’s fingers twitching, and suddenly being tired and hungry didn’t matter in the slightest. He practically held his breath as Akechi stirred, hazy maroon eyes slowly blinking open and looking around. Eventually they found Akira, and a hint of clarity returned to them. Akechi didn’t look angry, or upset, just confused, and Akira sighed with relief.

“Welcome back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [“Call upon the torch tonight, to bring out all the ghosts to light… Because at last we have to go; it’s time…”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvTuQftTt9I)
> 
> [Black Mask boss fight music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAKkw71ff3U)  
> [“Lord Zero” boss fight music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VDSdYAh8A90)
> 
> And then Goro smiles tiredly and murmurs, “Honey, I’m home” and Akira collapses on top of him and cries.
> 
> Or not. This isn’t going to be easy. But...things will be better now than they were. We’ve finally kicked Akechi enough. It’s time to start rebuilding. There is a lot of explaining to do, and a lot of talks that need to be had.
> 
> I don't consider myself very good at fight scenes and don't usually like writing them. Whatever elaborate thing you guys picture is probably better than what I actually write down in a lot of cases. But I had _so much fun_ writing that boss fight. I’m still not sure if it lived up to the mental image in my head, because it’s _fantastic_ , but I tried really hard and will probably try to go back and edit at some point. I love my cheesy video game setpieces, and it fits Goro’s shadow being his suppressed childishness and whatnot. I’m also glad I got to use Loki to get in some of his more deranged, angry yelling. (I’m actually working on a big writeup of all the thoughts and symbolism and stuff that went into the different acts, if anyone’s interested in that when it’s done.)
> 
> Also I have basically given up on having any kind of consistent chapter length so congratulations we are just...going at random from here on out. X’D
> 
> Next chapter: There are...so many talks that need to happen. I legitimately don’t know how many we’ll get to. But Akira’s getting first crack at a changed-not-stolen Akechi, and the team needs to collect themselves and get ready, because the Casino deadline waits for no Thief.


	39. November 10th-11th, 2016

Takemi checked Goro over thoroughly once Akira could focus long enough to go get her, and determined that other than general fatigue, he was in perfect health. Goro objected that he’d just been asleep and shouldn’t be fatigued, but he went pale when the doctor informed him how long he’d been out and that ‘unconsciousness is not the same thing as sleep’.

“I… I’ve been out for five days?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Almost,” Akira said. “Four days, and this would be the fifth night.”

“No…” Goro mumbled, and he started patting down his pockets frantically. “Where’s my phone, I have to…”

“You have to _rest_ ,” Takemi ordered. “You need a full night’s sleep. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”

Goro looked ready to argue, but Akira put a hand on his shoulder and he fell silent. He hadn’t met Akira’s eyes since the moment he’d woken up, and Akira could practically hear the anxiety thrumming under his skin. Together he and Takemi got Goro to his feet, and Akira pulled one of his arms over his shoulder to help support him when he wobbled. “C’mon. Come back to Leblanc with me. We’ll figure things out. Your phone’s there, too.”

“...okay.” Goro was looking at the floor, not Akira, but it was a start, and together they ventured out into Yongen-Jaya to make their way home.

When they reached the door to Leblanc, though, Goro balked when he saw the other Thieves sitting around inside the cafe. “No.”

“No?” Akira echoed, but Goro didn’t look angry, only exhausted and resigned.

“I...do not have the emotional fortitude to deal with your friends right now.”

“I’ll handle it,” Akira said gently. “Trust me, okay?”

He felt Goro take a deep breath. “Okay.”

The bell over the door chimed when they opened it, and everyone in the cafe turned to look. Akira held up his free hand to stop them before they could start talking, and said firmly, “Takemi-sensei says he needs a full night’s sleep before we do anything, so leave him alone for right now. I’m going to watch him. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Makoto asked, and Akira nodded.

“It’ll be fine.” He tightened his arm around Goro’s waist, almost protectively, and the Thieves started gathering their things to go home. Ann paused on the way out to say quietly, “I’m glad you’re awake, Akechi-kun,” and then left with Makoto, and Morgana leaped onto one of the counter seats.

“Do you want me to go with Futaba?” he asked, and Akira bit his lip. It felt selfish asking Morgana to leave, but he wanted a chance to talk to Goro before everyone else started demanding answers. He nodded tentatively, and Morgana offered him the cat’s equivalent of a reassuring smile. “Okay. We’ll see you tomorrow, leader.”

Akira tried to smile back. “I’ll come pick you up on the way to school.” He watched Morgana and Futaba leave, and that left the two Wild Cards alone with Sojiro, who looked less-than-pleased that Goro was in his cafe. Goro was looking at the floor, and Akira tried to plead with his eyes alone for Sojiro to please just give them this little time.

Eventually the cafe owner sighed. “Just don’t fight in my shop,” he said, going to get his hat. “I’ll be back in the morning.” He headed out as well, locking the door behind him, and Akira helped Goro maneuver upstairs and sit on the bed.

It was only after he’d turned away to put his bag on the stack of boxes by the stairs that he heard Goro speak.

“What did you do to me?” the other boy asked quietly, and when Akira turned to look at him his head was bowed, hair covering his expression.

“What do you mean?” Akira asked.

“Something happened. I have no memories after fighting with all of you, but at some point you took me to a doctor, and all of you look incredibly anxious. Obviously you didn’t steal my heart, because I don’t have a sudden urge to run desperately to the police station and tell them how many people I ruined, but I realize that something clearly went terribly wrong in Mementos.”

“I couldn’t have stolen your heart,” Akira admitted. “You were broken already; taking your heart would have killed you.”

“Would that really have been such a great loss?” Goro murmured, mostly to himself, then, louder, “But from the sound of it, you saw my Palace.” He sounded carefully neutral. “What are you going to do with me?”

Akira walked over to rummage through his box, looking for pajamas. “Well, I’m going to make sure you get a good night’s sleep. And then I’m going to make sure Sojiro doesn’t mind you spending the day here tomorrow. And then I’m going to sit down with you and the others, and you’re going to tell us the truth about everything that’s been happening.”

Goro’s neutral tone gained a bit of an edge as he said, “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

“Of course, but I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Akira replied, turning around with two sets of pajamas in his arms to raise an eyebrow at Goro.

“How long are you going to keep me here?” Goro said, a scowl creeping onto his face. “How long do I have before you throw me to the police? You found ‘Black Mask’, just like you wanted. Now you can clear your names and be done with me.” He watched Akira bury his face in the clothes he was holding, shoulders shaking, and shot to his feet. “Why are you laughing?!”

The movement was a mistake; he lifted his hand to his head as his vision blacked out a bit. As he swayed on his feet, Akira tossed the pajamas onto the couch and came over to help him sit back down.

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m happy. You’re not doing that fake-polite thing, and it’s a good thing,” Akira said, still fighting a smile. “I’m not throwing you to the police. This is bigger than you, and I want to help you. After everything that I saw…”

“What would you know?” Goro spat. “What would you know about anything?”

Akira sat down beside him and met his gaze evenly. “Cro-- Or, I guess… Robin couldn’t tell us about your father, but he has something to do with this, right? You think he’s a monster.” He could admit he was just a tiny bit smug when Goro’s mouth dropped open in shock, and the other boy sat back, clearly struggling to process.

“You… You talked to Robin?” he asked, sounding almost afraid.

“And Loki,” Akira said, deciding to get it all out there.

Goro was silent for a long time, staring down into his lap. Akira had seen more than Goro had ever wanted him to; it was a strange feeling, like being trapped, but also a relief at the same time, to finally have someone who knew almost everything. “Will you...tell me about my Palace?”

Akira pointed at the couch. “Pajamas first,” he said. “Comfy clothes make everything better. And then yeah, I’ll tell you about the Palace.”

***

Once they’d changed clothes they ended up on the bed, cross-legged and facing each other, eating leftover curry Akira stole from the fridge. Akira told him about the Theatre, about Crow and Black Mask and the incredible setpieces, about the psychotic shadows and the labyrinth. He stumbled a bit over talking about the cognition of himself in the stage version of the TV station, which made Goro smile, and glossed over act 3 as best he could, though Goro figured out what he was implying happened pretty quickly. And he talked about the fight against that final cognition, all of them working together, and leaving the photograph behind to avoid damaging Goro any further.

“What a ridiculous final battle,” Goro muttered, but the corners of his mouth were quirking upwards despite himself.

Akira laughed. “Robin told me not to make fun of you for that, and here you are doing it for me. Stop that.”

“Robin says a lot of things, and many of them are ridiculous, too,” Goro countered.

Akira’s expression softened to something fond. “He told me that you love me.”

Goro snorted. “Is that what this is?” he said bitterly. “I shouldn’t want to run away from love. No, this...this is torture. Wanting something that you’re only going to lose is torture. And I just kept putting myself through that because I couldn’t stay away from you. I convinced myself that it would be fine, that I’d be able to end things myself when I had to, so it would be okay to indulge for a little while. And look where that got me.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Akira said. He reached out, slowly so that Goro had a chance to stop him, and took the other boy’s hand in both of his. “I’m not going anywhere, I swear.”

“What is wrong with you?” Goro asked, but he didn’t try to pull away. He just sounded tired. “Everything you saw, and you would still want me?”

“I told you, Goro. I love you,” Akira said, and he felt Goro’s hand tighten around his. “I decided that night we spent in Shinjuku that I didn’t care whether you were Black Mask or not. You’re Akechi Goro, and I know for sure now that Black Mask is only a small part of the entire you.” He grinned crookedly. “I’m mostly offended that you would think you couldn’t ask for help. I would have helped you figure something out if you didn’t want to shoot me.”

Goro shook his head. Idealistic, naive idiot. “There was nothing to figure out, Akira. There was no negotiating. I had to choose. I had to choose between eliminating you and getting closer to my revenge, or keeping you and losing everything else.”

“And you chose him.” Akira didn’t even look upset, and Goro barely knew what to do with the idea that someone wasn’t going to judge him for his choices.

“If… If I didn’t, then all of those people, everyone I hurt, it would all be for nothing!” The words ran together in his haste to get them out, to justify himself to the one person that might, _might_ understand. “If I disobeyed, he would have killed me, and if I wasn’t there he would just keep ruining people and no one else would be able to do anything! I can’t stop, Akira, or everything I’ve worked for these last three years will have been for nothing!”

“It’s not for nothing,” Akira said. “I might not know everything yet, but I’m not asking you to stop. You’ve come so far and you’ve kept yourself alive, so now that you’re here, let us help you finish this without any more bloodshed. Please.”

Goro’s expression hardened. “He deserves to die, Akira.”

Akira huffed. “Sorry if that doesn’t mean much coming from someone who thinks the same of himself,” he retorted, and Goro looked like he’d been slapped. “You think we haven’t wanted to take out some of our targets? They’re awful people. But that’s not our call. And honestly, stealing their desires shouldn’t be either. But don’t you want to rip this guy’s heart out and watch him grovel for forgiveness? Wouldn’t that be better? I can’t promise how the others will react to what you tell us, but I already want to take out whoever this is, just for what he’s made you do.”

“What did I do to deserve such a colossal idiot as you?” Goro asked, and he bowed his head, staring down at Akira’s hands wrapped around his own. “I...will tell you and your friends everything. About my personas. About him.”

Akira nodded. “Thank you. Thank you for trusting me.”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Akira said quietly. “Sometimes none of the possibilities are good, but there is always a choice. And, if you choose, I’d like to hear the rest sometime, too. The foster homes and stuff. If you’re okay talking about it.”

Goro choked, his eyes welling without permission. No one had ever asked beyond superficial interview questions about his ‘inspiring story’. No one had ever cared how he really felt about any of it. The idea was too overwhelming; he didn’t know what to do. “I…” he began, swallowing hard. It didn’t help. “I...wouldn’t even know where to start. I…”

Akira smiled gently. “I don’t need to know, until you’re ready to tell me. I learned enough; the rest, I just want to hear from you.”

“Akira…” Goro crumpled, hiding his face in his hands as tears spilled down his cheeks. Akira reached out to pull him close, and he sagged against Akira’s body, fingers curling weakly into his shirt as he sobbed. He was exhausted and overwrought, and Akira just held him and let him cry, knowing that even if they hadn’t stolen his heart, they’d done a number on it after breaking all those cognitions.

Running his fingers through Goro’s hair, he said softly, “What you said before the fight in Mementos, about not having a blade hanging over me… I sort of did. Not as severe as you, but seriously. I just wasn’t aware it was there. I was accused of one thing, and ended up with a criminal record, and my parents sent me away. One blunder big enough to actually affect our lives, and I was gone. All of my friends abandoned me, my parents, my old school. No one stood by me. So I’ve been afraid this whole time, deep down. Afraid that I’ll mess up again, and my new friends will leave me. That Sojiro will throw me out. That I’ll end up all alone again. It’s been hard, but...I’m learning that I don’t have to pretend I’m never afraid. So I might not be able to understand everything you’ve been through, but I can sympathize with feeling like you have to show a certain face to the world.”

Goro nodded weakly against his chest. “So…” he said after a moment. “We were both just pretending to be okay, that night. You fell asleep in my arms, knowing that I was going to betray and murder you. You… You really didn’t care.”

“I really didn’t care,” Akira confirmed. “To borrow something you said, I just wanted you, for as long as I could have you.”

“God, I don’t deserve you,” Goro rasped, burying his face in Akira’s shirt again.

***

They fell asleep like that, curled together in Akira’s mismatched pajamas, huddled against the chill. When Sojiro arrived the next morning, he immediately went up to the attic, half-convinced he was going to find the wreckage of a fight. Instead he just found both boys under the duvet, looking no worse for wear, and despite his instinct to wake Akira and remind him to _please for gods sake be careful_ , he just went back downstairs to start some curry for the kids’ breakfast and dig out that old heater he had in the closet. Akira was going to need it if the nights kept getting colder.

By the time Goro woke up, Akira had left for school, and he found a set of his own clothes and a plastic container of bath supplies waiting on the couch, along with a note from Akira.

> _Hey!_
> 
> _I figured you’d probably want to wash up after five days asleep in the same clothes. I still had the clothes I borrowed from you when I stayed over at your place, or you can borrow some of mine. We’ll be at Leblanc after school lets out, so just hang out until then. It’ll be okay, I promise._
> 
> _Love you,  
>  Akira_

Tentatively, Goro gathered everything up and ventured downstairs. Sojiro was behind the counter, and fixed him with a flat look when he appeared. There weren’t any other customers, and the barista pointed at the door. “The bathhouse is across the street. Come back when you’re done and I’ll feed you.”

Goro ducked his head. “...thank you.” He all-but fled Leblanc, taking only a moment to find the place Sojiro had indicated.

He did feel better, once he’d washed his hair. There was no one else at the bathhouse this time of morning, and once he was clean and back in fresh clothes, he felt like he could at least face Sojiro without withering just from being looked at. When he returned to the cafe, there was a cup of coffee and a plate of curry waiting, and Goro took a hesitant seat at the counter. “Sakura-san…”

“Look,” Sojiro said gruffly. “I promised the kid I’d hear you out with the rest of them. Until then, he just wants you to stay here and lay low.” He leaned on the other side of the counter, arms folded. “I’m also not supposed to give you back your phone or your briefcase, which I can understand, considering there’s a gun in there. You’re mixed up in some shit, aren’t you?”

Goro wasn’t even surprised at this point that they’d searched his briefcase. “I understand,” he said quietly. “Thank you for allowing me to stay.”

“I can at least hear your side of it,” Sojiro sighed. “Eat your breakfast; the shop’s opening soon.”

Eating his curry as quickly as he could, Goro went back upstairs, trying to get out of the way. Akira had a few books scattered around, a few video games… He ended up cutting the TV on and getting back in bed, bundled in Akira’s red sweatshirt and still feeling tired. He could only assume it was a side-effect of them messing around with his heart, but he still didn’t expect to doze off in the middle of mid-morning game shows.

He drifted in and out, watching TV when he was awake and letting himself nap. He hadn’t had a day where he didn’t need to do anything in a long time. It would almost be nice, if he wasn’t anticipating the judgment of the Phantom Thieves when they returned from school. Not to mention Shido’s wrath when he finally got back in touch. His father was going to be less than pleased that he’d been out of contact for five days.

He finally woke up properly late in the afternoon to Akira gently shaking his shoulder, a fond smile on his face. “Hey,” the thief said. “The others are downstairs. Are you doing okay?”

“I’m all right. Sakura-san gave me breakfast, and I’ve just been up here all day,” Goro murmured. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then struggled out from under the duvet. “Let’s get this over with; I’m tired of waiting.”

“I’m here with you,” Akira said. “They promised to listen, so don’t worry, okay?”

Goro couldn’t help but trust Akira, despite his better judgment, and they walked downstairs hand-in-hand to meet the stares of the rest of the Thieves and Sojiro. Someone had stopped for food along the way: there were trays of sushi on the tables, and Akira ushered Goro into a booth and sat beside him, keeping their hands linked under the table. No one had said anything, and Goro was pretty sure that Akira had specifically told them not to all ask questions at once. And of course the Thieves would listen to their precious leader.

“Okay,” Akira said at last, squeezing Goro’s hand. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Goro sucked in an anxious breath. “...I didn’t lie about everything,” he began. “I did stumble into Mementos and awaken Robin Hood when I was attacked by shadows. But it was two and a half years ago, not in July.” He thought back to that day. He’d been terrified of dying, alone in the dark in the monstrous subway, and Robin Hood had come to him and given him the means to fight back before he was electrocuted to death. “I did use Mementos at first to create my reputation as a detective. Once I could fight better, I could track down the shadows of criminals and find the clues needed to catch them, things the police couldn’t find.”

“So technically we were right. We just didn’t figure out all of it,” Makoto said, and Akechi reached for a piece of sushi as they mulled that over.

“There was a point to raising my reputation,” he said, once he’d had a bite. “As I’ve told Akira, my mother was abandoned by the man she had been seeing when she became pregnant with me, and after I was born, she eventually committed suicide from the shame and pressure of being a single mother. I spent a great deal of time locating my father, based on the few clues she left behind. But he was someone important, not someone a lowly orphan could get near, so I had to be someone important myself.”

He tried to speak as impassively as possible. This wasn’t the time for emotions and feelings. Akira had promised him space for that. This was simply laying out the facts, and he was good at that. “I met my father shortly before discovering Mementos and learned that he wasn’t the good person that he appeared to be. So when I eventually learned to navigate to individual Palaces, I discovered his. I discovered what a truly awful person he was at his heart, and I awoke Loki and my power to make people psychotic. And I made a plan. He’d thrown me away like trash, so I was going to ruin him. He didn’t know who I was, so I met with him and offered him use of my metaverse powers to gather information and discredit rivals when they went on rampages, all to work my way closer to him. And things went well for a few months. Until that August.”

“August?” Sojiro said from the counter. His puzzled expression gradually morphed into distress. “...oh.”

Goro looked down at his lap, and Akira pulled his hand away to wrap an arm around him instead. “He sent me to deal with a scientist,” Goro said quietly. “A woman researching the sort of cognitive powers that I had. He didn’t want anyone else learning too much about what I could do, so that it would be restricted to just him and me. He ordered me to destroy her shadow.”

Futaba’s hands had crept up to cover her mouth. “Mom…” she whispered.

Goro nodded. “I found Isshiki Wakaba’s shadow in Mementos, and I destroyed it. The other shadows that I fought all came back after a period of time. There was never a shortage of Pixies or Pyro Jacks. So I assumed she would be unconscious for a few days while her shadow re-formed, and she would have learned her lesson to stop researching. But then he told me she had died, and that I had done well, and I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t meant to kill her; no one had ever told me something like that could happen. I had to learn everything on my own. And at that point it was too late. I knew what he was capable of; if I tried to back out he would have had me killed. And if I couldn’t complete my plan to bring him down, Isshiki Wakaba’s life would have gone to waste. So I kept going because I didn’t see any other choice. And now you know how I became his assassin.”

Sojiro scowled. “You said two and a half years ago?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You were fifteen,” Sojiro said harshly. “God, you were Futaba’s age. Someone tricked a fifteen-year-old into committing murder. What kind of monster…?”

“You shouldn’t have kept going,” Makoto insisted. “That would have been better than killing innocent people! Isshiki-san was an accident, but you knowingly killed the others!”

“They weren’t innocent!” Goro snapped. “Look at Okumura; he was a terrible, corrupt person, abusing his only child! The others were all the same!”

“We could have fixed him!” Haru said shrilly. “We could have changed his heart!”

“I didn’t know how!” Goro shouted. “I didn’t know that there was anything that could be done other than breaking people! I didn’t have a Morgana, I didn’t have _help_ , or _friends_. And I couldn’t leave! I told you in Mementos, he’s paying for my apartment, my school fees, I would have been on the street! I would have lost everything, and then his associates would have hunted me down and killed me for turning on him! Should I have just died?” He glared at them furiously. “It would have been better, right? Go on, say it! Everyone else thinks so already, what’s a few more?”

His breathing hitched as Akira wrapped both arms around his waist and squeezed, grounding him. He shut his eyes, trying to rein back that angry, destructive impulse, pushing back Loki, who was trying to tell him that this was a bad idea. Akira had promised. Things were going to be okay.

He took a deep, shaking breath and said quietly, “Okumura-chan, I didn’t kill your father, if it makes any difference. I killed many people, but he, at least, was not me. I didn’t have the opportunity, and he was poisoned during his press conference instead to give the appearance that I had succeeded.”

Haru looked downwards, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “...so whoever you worked for had him killed.”

“Yes. I’m...sorry. I thought that when I failed, the change of heart would be successful. I didn’t anticipate that they would act in reality.”

She still wouldn’t look at him. “I...acknowledge that you did not kill him. But I cannot forgive your intent. Or your intent to murder Joker.”

“I was stupid,” Goro whispered.

“You were scared,” Akira said, against his shoulder.

“And it made me stupid.” Goro looked around the group, who had been remarkably silent considering their usual tendency of chattering on, and finally at Sojiro. “My father’s name is Shido Masayoshi. That’s who is behind all of this.”

The Thieves looked confused, but Sojiro’s eyes widened. “Shido is your father? The politician?”

“Yes,” Goro said. “All of this has been because he’s striving to become prime minister. And I was going to help him get there, force him to acknowledge me, and then ruin him so badly that killing him would be a mercy.”

Sojiro’s fists clenched. “Shido… God, I should have realized sooner.”

“You know him, Boss?” Ryuji asked.

“He was always interested in Wakaba’s research,” Sojiro growled. “Poking around, interfering. I should have known; there were rumors about him even then, and then Wakaba died and I left to protect Futaba instead of looking into it when I should have, because people around him were gaining a tendency to have bad things happen to them.”

Goro sighed. “Probably best you didn’t. He would have killed you, too.” He ducked his head. “Sakura-san, Sakura-chan, I do not expect forgiveness, but I apologize with my whole heart for taking her from you. I never intended for things to go the way that they did. I’m sorry.”

Sojiro walked around the counter to join the group properly. “Shido never let you see the research, did he?” he asked. When Goro shook his head, he said, fury simmering under his placid tone, “Then he manipulated you into all of this until you were in too deep. Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made some bad choices, but you aren’t solely responsible. You were a kid. Still are.”

Akira unwound his arms from Goro and sat up straight, and all of the Thieves immediately looked to him. Goro was never going to stop being impressed with how effortlessly he commanded their trust, and even Sojiro looked a bit surprised, having never sat in on a proper meeting before. Akira laid one hand on the table and one on Goro’s shoulder and said firmly, “Our next target, then, is Shido Masayoshi. We still need to deal with Niijima-san; that warrant’s not going away. But afterwards… We know now who was controlling Kaneshiro, and Madarame, and Okumura. We can end this.” He looked at Goro. “Will you fight with us?”

“I…” Goro stammered, looking around the room. The other Thieves looked uncertain, but none of them objected.

“Things end either way,” Akira said, and his eyes were like dying embers, intense beneath his messy fringe. “We have the same enemy. Come back to us, and we can fight together, no questions asked.”

“Hold up,” Sojiro said. “You kids can’t go after someone like Shido. If he’s got his claws into as many things as Akechi’s implying, it’s way too dangerous.”

“What are we supposed to do, then?” Futaba blurted. “He had my mom killed, Sojiro, I’m gonna bring him down.”

“If he’s ‘got his claws’ into that much shit, we can’t trust anyone else to take care of it either,” Ryuji huffed.

Yusuke frowned. “Akechi’s situation sounds remarkably similar to ours, with the exception that he was forced to find a way to handle things on his own. This Shido sounds like exactly the sort of person that we should be targeting.”

“Can we do this, then?” Akira asked. “Can we all agree to work together until this is over?”

A ripple of agreement circled the room, and Goro bit his lip. “I did not expect to be allowed to help any further,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Hey, you’ve been dealing with this Shido guy’s crap all this time. You deserve to watch him come crashing down,” Ryuji shrugged. “And I’m not saying that there’s not things we all probably still wanna say to you, but Yusuke’s right. You’re like us. Some shitty adult ruined your life, and now we’re gonna do something about it.”

Goro shut his eyes rather than let them see how much just that simple affirmation affected him, and Akira took over effortlessly. They would return to the Casino tomorrow to investigate the next floor and start reworking the plan to deal with the warrant. Goro would get in contact with Shido to assure him that things were still proceeding according to plan. Everything was going to work out, as long as they kept their focus.

Everyone trailed out of Leblanc to go home, save for Morgana, perched on the counter, and Sojiro, who was finishing up closing tasks. Akira stood with Goro by the door, having returned his phone and briefcase, but clearly reluctant to let him leave.

“If Shido doesn’t believe you, _call us_ ,” he said firmly. “We’ll protect you.”

“I can handle Shido, Akira. I’ve been doing it for a long time,” Goro assured him, even though the phone felt like a lead weight in his pocket. Futaba was still going to listen to his calls, but he knew that was just a precaution. They had a right to be wary. “Things will be fine. Don’t fuss.”

Akira grinned weakly. “Sorry. I’ve worked too hard to make sure I can keep you. I don’t want it getting messed up now.”

“You-- Goodness, you’re the worst. I’m not a pet,” Goro said, exasperated, but he was turning pink.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not mine,” Akira replied, very quietly, and curled a hand around the back of his neck to pull him into a gentle kiss, heedless of his guardian and his cat pointedly ignoring them.

Goro’s eyes went wide, before falling shut. Akira had said he still loved him, but somehow he hadn’t been sure whether the level of intimacy they’d had was still the same. But Akira’s lips were soft, his other arm curling around Goro’s waist to bring him close, and Goro let himself sink into it. This reassured him more than anything else so far that just maybe, things were going to turn out okay in the end.

If anyone could make sure of it, it was Kurusu Akira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akechi: _["Defy the gods, despite the odds, I'll find that light... Tomorrow's come with a new sun waiting for me..."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LUnPZstS9DQ)_
> 
> Technically we've seen this song before, back in Act 1, but I didn't link it then because it was more of an...all-encompassing song, as opposed to just being for Act 1. At least the way I was interpreting it. Akechi's come a long way towards learning to trust Akira, but it's not over yet.
> 
> The rest of the Thieves respect Akira's judgment too much to be too harsh to Akechi, but rest assured, there are still things to say, and as soon as they get the opportunity to corner Akechi without his protective boyfriend, they will be said. The kids need to get their issues out of their systems if they're going to work as a team.
> 
> (As mentioned, here is the [Palace writeup](http://twilightknight17.tumblr.com/post/171981033974) I did, so have at that. Most fun I've had writing an essay in years. ;) )
> 
> Next chapter: It's Hell Week, as the Thieves are running out of time to finish the Casino. Doesn't mean they can't make time to have some choice words for Akechi, though. Also, _certain people_ are probably about to get in trouble for not doing their jobs, if they can't catch up quick enough...


	40. November 15th, 2016

It ended up taking them a few days to return to the Casino. Life was happening, things got busy, and despite the looming deadline there were times that it was impossible to make excuses. Having the weekend off after the Theatre did them all good, though, and it gave Goro time to get things in order as well.

Shido had been _furious_ that he hadn’t checked in, but Goro had managed to placate him with a half-true explanation that he’d been injured in the metaverse. All the Phantom Thieves’ fault, of course, careless idiots. They’d taken him to a shady clinic so he could recover, but he hadn’t had access to his phone. But it was fine, because the Casino plan was still on-schedule, the Thieves suspected nothing, and he just had to keep up appearances for another week and everything would be over.

It took less explaining than he was expecting to calm Shido down, and he was ordered to focus on the task at hand, because the Phantom Thieves needed to disappear if Shido was going to be prime minister. Goro agreed, of course, and got off the phone as quickly as possible, grateful that Shido hadn’t given him any more targets in the meantime.

When they did return to the Casino at last, everyone was almost immediately distracted. Goro had been expecting to be mostly ignored, presuming the group would still be uncomfortable around him, but quickly found himself the center of attention unexpectedly.

“Dude, you’ve got a _third_ outfit? That’s not fair,” Ryuji said.

“I...don’t believe it’s a third outfit,” Goro said tentatively, trying to look down at himself. “I think that the other two are gone. You all did change my heart, after all, even without stealing it, and I believe Mona said the outfits come from the heart. Roughly.” He was in grey pants and knee-high boots, a darker-grey jacket still giving off a prince-like impression. Robin’s gold and Loki’s red gave it accents, with gold shoulder pieces and trim, and red cording and crimson gloves. His cape was longer, too, bleeding from Black Mask’s navy to Robin’s cobalt blue, and a single white rose was pinned to his lapel. And when he realized he couldn’t see the beak of his bird mask anymore, he reached up to pull it off, finding that it had become a properly black mask in the rough shape of wings.

“I like it,” Akira said, eyeing his gloves. “Much more prince than band kid, this time.”

He jolted as Futaba elbowed him. “We know _you_ like it. Quit being so thirsty.”

Morgana put a paw to his mouth, looking Goro over critically. “Should you pick a new codename, then, for a new you? It could be a fresh start with the Phantom Thieves, since we’re all on the same side for real now.”

Goro offered him a hesitant smile. “I’ll think about it, Mona. We should get going, though.”

The high-limit floor boasted an even grander atmosphere than the floor below, and they scattered around the lobby to investigate what sort of games there were. Ann and Makoto checked a door that waited up a staircase, Ryuji and Haru were reading some sort of signboard with Morgana, Akira and Yusuke were asking the desk clerk about the floor’s games, and Goro was sitting by himself, trying to stay out of the way of the rest of the group. And then Futaba appeared in front of him.

“Can I sit?” she said, pointing at the spot on the couch beside him.

He couldn’t help his eyes from darting to Akira, far across the room, but he nodded stiffly. “Was there something you needed, Oracle?”

She flopped onto the cushions beside him, kicking her feet back and forth for a minute and worrying her lip between her teeth. It reminded him of Akira, her obvious reluctance to speak, and Goro was momentarily struck by the thought that he wouldn’t be surprised if he learned that they were actually siblings and not just half-adopted family. Finally, she seemed to find her words, and said nervously, “About my mom…”

Were they really doing this now? Goro resisted the urge to just paste on a polite smile, and instead let his actual confused expression show through. “Yes?”

“I… I’ve been thinking a lot,” she said. “And I know in my head that my mom dying wasn’t your fault, because you didn’t know. Shido was the one who knew what would happen. But it’s just really hard not to blame you when you’re the one that pulled the trigger.” She was talking quickly, like she was afraid he was going to interrupt. “I’m not going to let that affect how I am in battle, though! You’re part of the team no matter what, and you make ‘Kira really happy, so I’m going to try to focus on the fact that you’re on our side for real now.”

Goro blinked. “Um… Thank you, I think?”

Futaba grinned deviously. “Besides, I still have your phone bugged, and if you ever did anything to hurt Joker I could destroy you in ten minutes flat without even mentioning all the _really_ bad stuff you’ve done. Your online reputation would be toast.”

Sakura Futaba was _terrifying_. “I understand that quite well. Believe me, I have no desire to see him come to any kind of harm.”

“Good.” Futaba flopped back against one of the extravagant cushions. “So you’ll let me know when you guys keep going with your Featherman marathon, right? I want to hear about Joker’s reaction to the ending.”

Some of the tension eased from Goro’s posture, and he nodded. “We had to put it on hold, obviously, but I would think after what Akira saw in my Palace, we will pick it up again soon. Perhaps after we know that the police are no longer breathing down your necks.”

They could have gone on for much longer about the twists and turns awaiting Akira in the buildup to the Featherman R finale, but Yusuke came to fetch them, and they went to join the group as they gathered near one of the doors.

“The next floor takes one-hundred thousand coins to open,” Makoto said matter-of-factly. “There’s a bridge through that door behind the desk that leads to the manager’s floor, but it won’t activate without the right amount.”

“There are only two games on this floor, and both of them are meant to be played by proxies while the gambler bets,” Akira added. “There’s some sort of darkness maze, and then a battle arena. So at least one of us will have to stay behind to place the bets. Each of them gives out ten times whatever we bet.”

“So five thousand from the last floor...times ten, times ten again… That’s five times as much as we need!” Haru said brightly. “We’ll be just fine!”

Goro was sure that this seemed far too easy, but he wasn’t willing to crush their enthusiasm. He trailed behind as they headed for the ‘House of Darkness’, and Akira tapped Morgana, Ann, and Yusuke to go with him into the maze, passing the member card to Makoto so that she could place the bet. There was no reason not to bet everything; they were willing to guess that the game would come down to making it through the maze or being chomped by shadows. But they were confident that with Akira’s third eye, it wouldn’t be anything they couldn’t handle.

The rest of the Thieves crowded around Necronomicon as Futaba summoned the small version to pull up the Casino’s map. The layout of the maze itself wasn’t shown, but they could track the small, glowing dots that indicated their friends as they got closer and closer to the other side of the large room. When they finally reached the other side and circled back around, all four of them stumbled out of the exit door looking haggard and jumpy.

“What happened?”

“‘Just make it through the maze’, that thing said,” Ann huffed, trembling very faintly. “That was total crap.There were _really_ strong shadows in there!”

“Most of which could inflict fear,” Akira chimed in, also shaking, though he was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing Morgana knows revival spells.”

Morgana looked more put-together than the others, but barely. “Just don’t go down like that again,” he said sharply. “I can revive you, but that doesn’t mean it’s not scary!”

As everyone exchanged mildly worried glances, Yusuke spoke up. “We got a late start today,” he pointed out. “It would probably be best to return to reality for now and recover, as anything referred to as a ‘battle arena’ is likely some kind of trick as well.”

Akira nodded. “We still have time, and that’s probably the safest bet. We can’t afford to take unnecessary risks now, and obviously these games are a lot more dangerous.”

The group headed back downstairs, though not without a mocking wave at the cognitive employee standing in front of the House of Darkness. When they returned to reality, everyone split up to head home, and Goro was preparing himself for instant noodles and homework back at his apartment when Ann caught his sleeve.

“Hey,” she said, linking an arm around his. “Ryuji and I are taking Yusuke to dinner, and we’d be really happy if you’d come with us.”

She was being too peppy. Akira hadn’t been kidding, she really was a terrible actor when she was actually trying. Goro hesitated, glancing down at where she was holding onto him. “I presume this isn’t an invitation I am allowed to refuse?” he asked, already feeling that this was going to be much the same as Futaba asking to sit with him in the Palace. They were all clearly dancing around Akira, dodging their protective leader so that they could talk to Goro on their own.

“I mean, you can say no,” Ann said. “Nobody’s going to force you. But we really do want to talk, and we were gonna go to that monja restaurant and stuff our faces. They have okonomiyaki, too, if you’d rather have that.”

It was tempting to refuse. To run away. But he knew he shouldn’t do that. So he offered Ann a tentative smile and said quietly, “I owe you all a chance to speak without Akira acting as a shield. I’ll come.”

Ann grinned. “Akira’s just protective because he loves you. But I think you’ll be interested in what we’ve got to say. C’mon.” She dragged Goro by the arm towards the platform for Tsukishima, waving at Ryuji and Yusuke triumphantly, and he followed without complaint, wondering what exactly he was in for.

***

Goro had only done monja once, and after trying it again was solid in his belief that okonomiyaki was the better choice. They ate contentedly for a while, chatting about casual things like Yusuke’s latest painting and Ann’s most recent photoshoot, but while they waited for the next batch of batter to be brought to the table, Ann leaned her head on her hand and looked right at Goro.

“So, now that we have a chance to talk to you…” she said.

Goro swallowed hard. “I...have a feeling I know what you wish to speak about,” he said. “I likely deserve whatever you’re about to say.”

Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Don’t assume, dude. We wanted to tell you that we get it.”

That...was unexpected. “What?”

“Look, it’s only fair that if we went stomping around inside your head, you know some stuff about us, too,” Ryuji huffed. “I get that feeling. All that rage, lashing out because it’s the only thing you’ve got. I went after Kamoshida, woulda gone after him a second time if Akira hadn’t stopped me, and if I hadn’t been afraid he’d’ve hurt my mom, I’d’ve gone after my drunk, asshole dad too.”

That caught Goro’s attention like a fishhook, and he jerked sharply to actually look at Ryuji instead of just listening. “Your father?”

“Yeah,” Ryuji said. “My dad was a violent piece of shit. Drank all the time. We’re away from him now, thank goodness, but it was rough for a long time. So believe me, I get how much you can hate your dad. I dunno if I can forgive the fact that you actually went around killing people, though...”

“I can’t judge too much. I almost killed Kamoshida’s shadow,” Ann said bluntly, and god was Goro thankful that the restaurant was loud enough for them to not be overheard. “Akira was going to _let me_ , too. He said it was my call. The only reason that slimy bastard is still alive is because I know all the guilt he’s feeling is a fate worse than death. But, I get it. I get how easy it is to think that you’ll get away with it, because no one knows about the metaverse. And you were manipulated by someone who had everything to gain from making sure you listened to him.”

Goro looked at Yusuke, deciding to see what he had to say before he responded to any of it, and Yusuke met his gaze levelly. “Madarame, my father-figure, allowed my mother to die right in front of him rather than calling for help, all to obtain the painting she had created,” he said, and Goro felt his heart clench. Yusuke idly dragged a drop of water across the tabletop, glancing down at the patterns it made before continuing, “I never considered killing him. I merely wanted to expose him for the fraud he was. But...an awakening, having a persona, it’s a sense of power that I’m not sure I could ever figure out how to express in a thousand paintings. And I knew that I _could_ kill him, had I the wish to. Power, when you have been powerless for so long, is intoxicating. I do not blame you for falling to it, especially when Shido was only encouraging your addiction.”

“I didn’t enjoy what I did!” Goro snapped, barely remembering to keep his voice down. After a moment, though, he acquiesced, “It did make me feel...powerful, though. Needed. I...just wanted to be needed.” He sighed. “I suppose none of you will allow me to kill Shido.”

Ann reached across the table to cover his hand with hers. “Believe me,” she said, and there was something dark and devious in her expression that hit Goro like looking in a mirror, “having their heart stolen, for someone like that… It’s _way_ worse than dying. You’ll get to watch him _grovel_.”

“Takam--”

“Nope,” Ann said. “You’re part of the group now. First-name basis, Goro.” She winked at him.

Goro bowed his head, trying not to smile. “Ann. Thank you.” He looked around at all of them. “Thank you all. I...suppose the other two will want to speak with me at some point as well.”

Ryuji shrugged. “I think Haru’s just trying to work through the whiplashing of thinkin’ you killed her dad, then finding out you _were_ Black Mask but _didn’t_ kill her dad.”

“She might just need some time,” Ann added. “Makoto… It’s harder to tell. I’m kinda surprised she hasn’t lectured you already.”

“Makoto is likely more worried about her sister for now,” Yusuke said serenely. “I would anticipate the lecture when this is all over.”

“Great…” But for the first time in a long while, Goro didn’t feel anxious. He truly felt like just maybe, he could be part of the group again.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.

***

On the other side of Tokyo, Hamuko was having major regrets about how she’d chosen to spend her time.

“Shinjiiiiiiii,” she whined from the couch, trying to see him where he was cooking dinner in the kitchen. “Shinji, can’t you help me with some of this?”

Shinjiro’s voice traveled loud and clear over the sound of sizzling and stirring. “You told Mitsuru you’d keep up with the cameras while she was out of town. It’s not my fault you’re a week behind.”

Hamuko groaned, rolling over to look back at her laptop, which was playing camera footage at quadruple-speed. She’d missed reviewing the footage on the seventh, and then had put off trying to catch up. But Mitsuru was coming home tomorrow and was going to be extremely disappointed if she found out that Hamuko had been neglecting things. It was just so _boring_ , though, and she’d been at this for hours! Even cramming four hours into an hour wasn’t changing the fact that only a few people meandered down the alley, either going to the airsoft shop that was there or using it as a cut-through. And none of them even so much as glanced at the Velvet door.

In the middle of the file from the afternoon of Tuesday the 8th, something interesting finally happened. Some kid had gone into the airsoft shop in a Shujin uniform and come out with a a towering pile of boxes that obscured most of his face. She initially just thought he was amusing, stumbling as he tried to keep his mismatched boxes balanced, but she quickly realized that he looked familiar. She pulled up her gallery and the picture Yu had sent to all of them and rewound the video to watch him enter the shop again, confirming that box kid was almost definitely the same fluffy-haired silhouette as the one Okumura-chan had been talking to at the Shujin festival. That didn’t prove anything, of course. He was just a customer, after all, and he hadn’t even glanced at the Velvet door. It was just a coincidence, obviously.

But what did one kid need with that much stuff from an airsoft shop? It was a shame they hadn’t gotten a good shot of his face…

Making a note of where he appeared on the tape, she kept watching, wordlessly accepting a bowl of yakiniku and rice from Shinjiro as he came over to sit with her at last. And it was only fifteen minutes later that they finally struck gold.

A kid in a Shujin uniform approached from the other end of the alley, walking tentatively like he was looking for something. Hamuko returned the playback to normal speed, and his movements were clearly nervous as he glanced around. And just as he passed the Velvet door, he stopped dead, looked over at it, and both of them saw his lips move as he seemed to say something to the little girl watching the door. The girl didn’t seem to react, and the boy moved on quickly, but Hamuko and Shinjiro’s eyes had gone wide.

“It can’t be that easy,” Hamuko said. “We even got a good shot of his face.”

“This is why we put the camera up in the first place,” Shinjiro pointed out. “Mitsuru’s gonna be happy about this.”

“...does this mean I don’t have to watch the rest?” Hamuko asked hopefully.

“You still have to catch up.”

“Ugghhhhh.” Hamuko groaned. Maybe she’d have to watch the rest at eight times speed. That was a lot of footage. But they’d found something, and as soon as Mitsuru got home they could get a plan together to see about talking to this kid.

It was progress!

***

**Chat: The Squad - Akira, Ryuji, Ann, and 5 others**

> _[Goro - 8:39pm] I believe I have decided what I’d like my new codename to be._
> 
> _[Ann - 8:39pm] Does it involve the word prince anywhere?_
> 
> _[Ryuji - 8:40pm] I hope not_
> 
> _[Akira - 8:40pm] I hope so_
> 
> _[Ryuji - 8:40pm] Akira no, that’d be dumb_
> 
> _[Makoto - 8:41pm] Why would it be dumb to be named after royalty, exactly?_
> 
> _[Ryuji - 8:41pm] Yours suits you! He’s too much of a dork for that_
> 
> _[Goro - 8:42pm] Perhaps if you all let me tell you…_
> 
> _[Ann - 8:43pm] Shut up all of you! Sorry, Goro. Go ahead._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:45pm] I would like to be called ‘Ace’, if everyone will agree._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:45pm] The ace is a wild card that can be either high or low depending on the game._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:45pm] You all have brought me from my lowest to the highest I have ever felt._
> 
> _[Akira - 8:46pm] Aw, Goro._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:46pm] and_
> 
> _[Goro - 8:46pm] The idea of being the ‘Ace of Hearts’ seems...cool._
> 
> _[Futaba - 8:47pm] You dumb nerd._
> 
> _[Futaba - 8:47pm] I like it._
> 
> _[Ann - 8:47pm] Me too._
> 
> _[Ryuji - 8:47pm] Better than Prince_
> 
> _[Makoto - 8:47pm] I like it._
> 
> _[Akira - 8:47pm] Morgana says it’s good. Yusuke and Haru are offline, but I’m sure they’ll like it too._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:48pm] Thank you. I appreciate it._

***

**Chat: i love u, bitch - Akira, Goro**

> _[Goro - 8:56pm] Every time I switch back to this chat I regret it. Please give me access to change the name._
> 
> _[Akira - 8:56pm] No._
> 
> _[Akira - 8:56pm] Your reactions are too funny._
> 
> _[Goro - 8:56pm] Why do I love you?_
> 
> _[Goro - 9:00pm] Akira…?_
> 
> _[Akira - 9:01pm] I’m okay, I’m okay, I just_
> 
> _[Goro - 9:01pm] Did I say something wrong? I apologize, I didn’t mean to offend._
> 
> _[Akira - 9:01pm] **No**_
> 
> _[Akira - 9:02pm] You’ve just never said that before._
> 
> _[Goro - 9:02pm] Oh._
> 
> _[Goro - 9:05pm] Let me be plain, then._
> 
> _[Goro - 9:05pm] I love you even though I do not deserve you. And I will say it out loud next time I see you._
> 
> _[Akira - 9:06pm] It’s not about deserving. You get me whether you deserve me or not._
> 
> _[Akira - 9:06pm] I love you too, ‘Ace’. ;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got straight-up murdered in the House of Darkness and had to start over on my first run. And then the _same thing_ happened in NG+. It was awful. Fear status/Ghastly Wail is a goddamn nightmare.
> 
> There was supposed to be art of Akechi’s new outfit but I am lazy and also I wanna add something else to the picture, so _eventually_ , I promise. Shoutout to anyone that knew I’ve used ‘Ace’ before, though. ^_^
> 
> So much of this has been figuring out how to stall the Shadow Operatives long enough to get the Thieves to the end of the Casino, because if they get too close too soon it’ll break the whole plotline. But I think I’ve got it at last. Good job spotting that phantom thief, Hamuko! ;)
> 
> Next chapter: The Shadow Operatives finally get their hands on a suspect, and the Thieves prepare for the end of the Casino. There’s a Plan to revise.


	41. November 18th, 2016

Once Mitsuru was home and Hamuko presented her findings, it took Fuuka several hours to comb through the school records, looking for a picture that matched the boy on the tape, but eventually the Shadow Operatives were able to identify him as Mishima Yuuki, a second-year at Shujin Academy. He didn’t seem much like the profile of a notorious phantom thief and possible murderer, but they all knew how deceptively innocent persona-users could appear if they wanted.

He was on the school volleyball team, and had apparently taken quite a bit of abuse from the Phantom Thieves’ first target, Kamoshida Suguru. Since then, he had done nothing noteworthy except be rather outspoken in his support for the Phantom Thieves. But when Fuuka managed to hack into his laptop with a remote connection, not only did they learn that the kid was half-decent with computers and security, but that _he_ was the admin of the ‘phan-site’ where people posted comments and requested changes of heart. Combined with his apparent ability to see the Velvet Room, he was absolutely worth looking into, and they spent a couple of days learning his schedule and figuring out how best to approach him.

And that was why Hamuko and Akihiko found themselves in Akihabara, keeping an eye out for the kid. He often frequented the electronics stores, and they’d determined it was their best bet to catch him casually. Yu was supposed to be there too, but one of his professors had wanted to have a meeting with him, and he’d been forced to tell them to go on without him.

“If this kid is the leader of the Phantom Thieves, we’ve got to be ready for any tricks he might pull,” Akihiko said. Mitsuru had told him explicitly not to mention his position with the Tokyo Police Department, so he didn’t have any of his usual gear with him. Police, she’d said, would scare the kid off in light of recent investigations.

“He’s probably getting desperate,” Hamuko commented. “That warrant’s a big deal.”

“I keep hearing muttering around the precinct about some big operation tomorrow,” Akihiko replied. “There’s only a few people other than that detective kid actually assigned to the Phantom Thief case, since it’s mostly the SIU’s territory now, but they’re talking about calling in the whole department. No details yet; I’m guessing they don’t want any information to leak if the Thieves have ears in the police.”

Hamuko nudged him. “Well, try not to be too intimidating, Akihiko-senpai. We don’t want him to run away. In fact, maybe let me go first.” She glanced at the station. “There he is. Okay, senpai, wait here by the cafe entrance and I’ll go nab him.” Without waiting for an answer, she headed for the navy-haired kid that was heading towards Electric Town. “Hi! Are you Mishima Yuuki?”

The kid looked around, like he was checking to make sure she was talking to him, and then nodded hesitantly. “Y-Yes, that’s me. Umm…”

Poor thing seemed kind of tongue-tied. Cute. Hamuko beamed at him. “Cool. I’m Aragaki Hamuko. Can I talk to you for a few minutes?”

“You want to talk to m-me?” He looked equally disbelieving and hopeful, and Hamuko resisted the urge to pat him on the head. Jeeze, poor guy really must not talk to a lot of girls.

“Yep. I wanted to ask you something. Come hang out in the cafe with me and my friend for a bit?” she asked. He nodded, following along behind her like an eager puppy, but hesitated when he saw Akihiko. Hamuko had to admit, even when he was wearing a shirt her senpai was pretty intimidating, but she smiled reassuringly at Mishima and waved at Akihiko. “Weren’t you going in to get us a table?”

“That’s not what you said,” Akihiko said, confused, but Hamuko just hooked one arm around his and one around Mishima’s and dragged them towards the doors.

“Oh well, we’ll figure it out.”

The maid cafe was loud, filled with chatter and noise, which made it perfect for having a conversation without being overheard. Akihiko got the girl at the hostess stand to give them a table in a back corner, and after getting their drinks, Mishima looked between them awkwardly.

“So, um… What did you want to talk about?”

Hamuko noticed that he was looking at the wedding band on her finger with a hint of disappointment, and felt awkwardly sympathetic. This kid really didn’t seem to fit any sort of profile of a phantom thief, but maybe that was just a really good cover. He didn’t feel like a Wild Card, either, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a persona-user or a thief.

She smiled in what she hoped was a nonthreatening way and said brightly, “We wanted to ask you some things about the Phantom Thieves, since you seem like such a big fan.”

Mishima looked surprised. “W-Well, yeah, I support them. What did you want to ask?”

“You run that fan website, right?” Akihiko said. “The one where people leave requests. That must be interesting seeing all the different things they have to say.”

Hamuko could see Mishima’s posture shift to something more defensive, and he was obviously trying his best to keep his voice from shaking as he said, “I don’t use my name on the phan-site. Who are you? Are you the police?”

She shook her head. “No, Mishima-kun. We have a personal interest in the Thieves. And we’d like to know a little more about them, so that we can help them.”

Mishima clearly didn’t believe a word that was coming out of her mouth. “I don’t know anything about the Phantom Thieves,” he said. “I just run the website. They saved me, they saved half the school from Kamoshida. Even if I did know something, I wouldn’t tell you!” Almost as soon as he’d blurted the words out, he seemed to shrink, bravado failing him quickly.

Akihiko leaned forward. “We have video of you in an alley near an airsoft shop in Shibuya on the eighth of November. You spoke to a little girl beside a blue door. Do you remember that?”

“What?” Now he didn’t look defensive or afraid, just confused. “I-I went looking around down there because a friend of mine said the airsoft shop had cool props, but I didn’t see any kids or a blue door.”

“Mishima-kun, you’re on video.” Hamuko pulled out her phone, opening up the clip from the week before and offering it to him. He frowned at it, still confused even as he watched.

“There’s no door there.” He handed the phone back, and it was paused on the moment where he’d looked right at the door.

Hamuko frowned. She could see it fine. Their phones were modified by the Shadow Operatives to be able to detect things that came from meta-space. Something about bits of a plume of dusk; she hadn’t listened to Fuuka’s whole explanation when she’d gotten the phone. Either Mishima was a really good actor, or he actually couldn’t see it.

“You’re positive?” Akihiko said, irritation underlying his voice, and Mishima ducked his head.

“Y-Yes! But… I do remember that…” he said hesitantly. “I had a weird feeling when I went by there. That’s why I stopped. I felt like there was supposed to be something there, but when I looked, there wasn’t anything.”

Hamuko tilted her head questioningly. That sounded vaguely familiar. There were only a few reasons that he’d have a heightened sense of meta-space without being able to see it. “All right. One more question, Mishima-kun. Does the word ‘persona’ mean anything to you?”

She watched his expression carefully, but there was zero recognition on his face when he shook his head. That narrowed it down significantly, and Hamuko glanced at Akihiko meaningfully before smiling at Mishima. “Thank you, Mishima-kun. I’m sorry if we weirded you out a bit. But the Phantom Thieves might be in big trouble, and we’re trying to get to them before anything bad happens. You understand, right?”

“Y-Yeah, of course.” Mishima, sensing the chance to escape, got to his feet. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Have a good day!”

He fled the cafe as quickly as he could, and Akihiko scowled at Hamuko. “What the hell? We’re just letting him leave?”

“He’s not our guy. I’m not as good as Yu-kun, but unless he’s the greatest actor the world has ever seen, he’s not lying about not being able to see the door or not knowing what a persona is,” Hamuko replied. “Plus, he’s not our Wild Card. I’d have known if he was as soon as he walked up.”

“So what’s his deal, then? Why can he only sort of sense the Velvet Room?” Akihiko asked.

Hamuko grinned. “Remember how Minato and I explained that we formed bonds with people, and they helped strengthen our powers in meta-space? I think Mishima-kun is one of the new Wild Card’s bonds. Which means he knows him, even if he doesn’t know he’s a phantom thief.”

“So we need to keep an eye on Mishima and see who he interacts with, and that would give us a smaller list of suspects,” Akihiko said, understanding dawning slowly. “Maybe even check his phone. I bet Fuuka could do it. No offense, but that kid didn’t seem like the sort to have many friends.”

“No, he didn’t. And if he’s only got a few, we’ve got a pretty good chance of nailing our thief.” Hamuko took a sip of her drink triumphantly. “We’ll have to call Mitsuru once we leave here. We’re finally making some real headway on this case! I bet we’ll be able to talk to the Thieves for real within a week.”

***

The Phantom Thieves, oblivious to the extra set of hunters in pursuit, had gathered at Leblanc to re-finalize the plan for the end of the Casino. Sitting downstairs with mugs of coffee and a pile of convenience-store snacks, they explained to Sojiro and Goro exactly what the plan had been, and why it needed to be revised, but not changed completely.

“You were going to do _what?_ ” Sojiro demanded.

“Can any of you even _fathom_ how terrible a plan that was?” Goro snapped, glaring around at all of them. “The primary factors determining Akira’s survival were variables entirely out of your hands! Admittedly, if you had pulled it off, you truly would have fooled me, but the chances of it being successful were astronomical!”

“We didn’t have a lot of other options,” Morgana grumbled.

Sojiro raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what the cat said, but I hope it was confirmation that that was a stupid plan.”

“The slightest thing wrong and you would have died!” Goro cried.

Akira wrapped an arm around his agitated boyfriend. “That’s why we decided to confront you instead,” he said. “But now, it’s still in our best interests to make Shido think I’m dead. That way we can get the element of surprise to go after his Palace. You said it’s a ship, right? It’s probably huge, so any time advantage is a good thing.”

Futaba nodded enthusiastically. “With you and possibly Niijima-san helping, we can definitely get him out of there after you pretend to shoot him, because now he’s not in danger of straight-up dying if something goes wrong. They’re going to shut off the cameras and stuff for you, right? I’ve looked at the blueprints of the station, and there should be a back exit.”

Akechi chewed his lip, thinking it over. “No one was meant to actually check the validity of the suicide report. The coroner was going to write up the death certificate and stow the body in the morgue without bothering to look any closer, and they were going to keep people from looking at any of it too closely anyway. If I volunteer to take care of the body, I’m certain the coroner would agree to let me handle it. He seemed like a cowardly weasel the few times I’ve had to interact with him. Getting Sae-san on our side will be the hard part…”

“Well, we’ll be able to change her heart without knocking her out for a week. We know that’s possible, now,” Makoto said. “And I’m sure she’ll listen to Akira-kun once her distortion is taken care of.”

“That gets us transportation,” Akechi said thoughtfully. “Sae-san has a car. And we can come back here to regroup, I suppose. But I doubt it will be safe for him to stay here. If Shido believes Kurusu Akira is dead, he may still send someone to check where he was living, just to be sure.”

Sojiro sighed. “I’ve got somewhere we can take him afterwards, if you meet back here. You don’t retire from the PSIA without keeping at least one safe house in reserve.”

“Very well.” Goro looked around at them all. “The leader of the Phantom Thieves will ‘die’, as ordered, and then we will be able to focus on infiltrating Shido’s ship. If he is unaware of my betrayal, I will likely be able to make things much easier than a typical infiltration.”

“Akechi-kun,” Makoto said pointedly, and his gaze shifted to her. When she had his full attention, she said firmly, “If you do _anything_ that endangers Akira-kun, I will personally make sure that you regret it.”

 _So much for first-name basis,_ Goro thought to himself. He refused to bow under her words, and met Makoto’s stare head-on with a serious expression. “Niijima-san,” he replied, not coldly, but not friendly either, “I understand that you have your reasons to be suspicious still. But considering what Akira-kun has told me about the formation of the Thieves, I find you a bit hypocritical.”

She looked startled, apparently unused to him being completely honest, and he smiled sweetly and continued, “If you are doubting the effect you have had upon my heart, you are doubting our ability to do the same to your sister. Do you object to the plan?”

Makoto looked at Akira, who shrugged. “He’s got a point.” As much as he sympathized with Makoto, and Haru and Futaba, there was a small part of him that still held a grudge for her blackmailing her way onto the team.

“No, I don’t object to the plan,” Makoto said, sounding like she was forcing the words out.

“Why are you so hung up on him, anyway?” Ryuji asked. “I expected Haru and Futaba to be the ones bein’ all aggressive.”

Makoto stood there for a second, seething, and then blurted, “I was jealous!”

That caught all of them off-guard, but none more so than Goro. “Jealous?” he asked, looking like he’d been hit with a confusion spell.

“You were _perfect_ ,” she huffed. “You had good grades, everyone liked you no matter how condescending you were to people, people admired you for doing your job when everyone resented me for mine, my sister trusted you so much… I felt so _inferior_.”

“...I was rather terrible to you when we spoke, wasn’t I?” Goro said quietly. “It’s probably too late, but I apologize for speaking to you that way.”

Makoto looked away. “...I accept your apology, but I...don’t know if I can be your friend yet.”

“That’s fine,” Goro said. “The important thing now is making sure this plan is airtight.”

Akira looked around at his team. “Let’s go over the details one more time.” They had more of an advantage now, but things still had to be as perfect as possible, just to make everything easier. It was a weird thought to be getting purposefully arrested, after everything he’d been through, but Shido needed to think he was dead. He wasn’t going to risk the man going after the others. Any of them.

***

After the meeting, Futaba headed home. There was a new game she’d downloaded that she wanted to try out. But barely an hour in, she got a call from Akira.

_“Futaba, I ran into Mishima in Shibuya. He said some strange people were asking him about the Phantom Thieves.”_

“Whaaaaat?” Futaba saved the game and leaned back in her chair. “Did he get names?”

_“Just one. Aragaki Hamuko?”_

She clicked him onto speakerphone and dropped the phone on the desk, shutting down the game and tapping away as she pulled up the browser.

Sojiro poked his head in. “What’s going on?”

“Hacking into public records.”

“What, now?” Sojiro asked.

“Yep. ‘Kira called.” She scrolled through several menus and lists, and then activated a search and waited impatiently. Eventually, the computer beeped, and she grinned. “Got it. Aragaki Hamuko, née Arisato. Married to Aragaki Shinjiro, works as a receptionist. Her records before 2011 are pretty sparse, but apparently she attended Gekkoukan High School in Iwatodai. She also apparently works part-time for the Kirijo Group.”

“Wait, the Kirijo Group?” Sojiro asked, alarmed.

 _“You’ve heard of them?”_ Akira’s voice said through the phone.

“Kirijo Mitsuru was one of two people that Wakaba spoke with about her research,” Sojiro said roughly, and Futaba perked up.

“Is that related to the Shadow Operatives? I found something about them in mom’s emails a long time ago, but didn’t get anything else on them. Their computer systems didn’t have any good info.”

Sojiro walked over, closer to the desk so that both kids could hear him clearly. “Both of you, stay away from the Shadow Operatives. Do you hear me?” he said firmly. Futaba was about to object, but Sojiro shook his head. “Listen to me. I mean it. The Shadow Operatives didn’t approve of your mother’s research at all. They were suspicious of what she was intending to do with it, and what that kind of knowledge would give people the capability to do. If the Shadow Operatives get hold of you kids, I can’t guarantee that they won’t take you into custody, and they _certainly_ won’t allow you to go after Shido.”

Both of them were silent for a long moment, and then Akira said quietly, _“Something else to keep an eye out for, I guess.”_

“I’ll work on upgrading the security on our phones, just in case. I’ll probably give you something for Mishima’s, too, if he’s on their radar. And I might rewrite some code on the phan-site,” Futaba mused. “If they’re that big of a deal, I’m not going to give them any chances to slip past me. Not again.”

“Just for god’s sake, be careful. I’m wound up enough with this plan of yours; if any of you kids _actually_ disappear, I won’t know what to do.” Sojiro headed back out into the hallway, leaving Futaba and Akira uneasy, thinking.

They weren’t prepared for a conflict on two fronts. Shido and Niijima were the same front, from slightly different angles. But if the Shadow Operatives were after them too…

Things would be getting much more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Mishima. You were the sacrifice. XD
> 
> They're _so close_. The Thieves are RIGHT THERE, and still just a smidge out of reach. Also, I had fun writing Goro and Sojiro being indignant about the plan. I get that if you told him ahead of time in-game he'd probably tell you that you were a moron, but now we've got a better plan and no one's going to shoot Akira! Hooray!
> 
> Next chapter: Ladies and Gentlemen, it's 11/20 at last! Time to finish off the Casino and hit the final leg of this thing. However...there is a chance that I might have to skip Wednesday's update. There's been some stuff going on, and I'm a little behind. So I might just give myself the extra time to catch back up and maybe get a little ahead. We'll see. It's still a maybe, but if you don't see a chapter on Wednesday, expect a super-cool Casino heist next Saturday. ;)


	42. November 19th-20th, 2016

“Be ready at three o’clock on the dot,” was what they were told, and Akihiko would confess to being confused as hell. The entire police force had been mobilized, down to the last officer, and they were being assembled on the street between the precinct and the courthouse. All anyone knew was that it was an operation to catch the Phantom Thieves, but what kind of operation was up in the air entirely.

“You will conceal yourselves in the city proper, and when we have confirmation that the Phantom Thieves have infiltrated the building, you will form a perimeter to ensure that they do not escape,” the deputy chief was yelling through a megaphone. “You will see strange things, according to our sources. Do not be alarmed. This is the work of monsters using strange powers to control people’s hearts. Nothing odd that you see will be real, except the Thieves themselves.”

Strange things? Akihiko wondered what that meant. But then the world shifted abruptly. People cried out around him, trying to keep their balance as everything wavered. When the world settled again, nothing had changed but the courthouse, which was now a towering casino wreathed in colored light beneath a sky that was suddenly, impossibly nighttime. Akihiko felt Caesar shift restlessly in the back of his mind and knew, without a doubt, where he was.

This was meta-space. But how had they gotten here? Why were all of these people that weren’t persona-users being brought in?

“Listen to your captains! We will be taking up positions in the surrounding city blocks. Now isn’t the time to get distracted!” the deputy chief was yelling, and Akihiko followed his squad, glancing back over his shoulder at the dazzling building. He didn’t know how this was going to be explained away, but if the Thieves were used to being untouchable, this was going to go very poorly.

***

After their meeting the previous day, the Thieves had sent Makoto off with a calling card for her sister, and they assembled Saturday afternoon ready to take on the Palace ruler and put things into motion.

“The police are in position,” Goro said when he arrived at the train station. “They’ve already entered the metaverse and are hiding out, waiting for us to go inside. We won’t run into them when we appear in the entrance, and during the meeting where we diagrammed the operation, I left a gap in their positions to allow us a way out once we’ve changed Sae-san’s heart.”

Yusuke glanced at Akira. “Are you sure that you want to do this, Leader?”

“Hey, since we revised it and got some more help, this is a great plan,” Akira said flippantly. “All I have to do is get arrested, sit through Niijima-san asking me a thousand questions, and then get out. Easy.”

“I hope one day we can all have as much confidence as you,” Morgana said. Haru knelt down to pick him up, and together the Thieves made their way to the front of the courthouse, shifting to the Casino.

Once they were safely inside the building, or as safe as they could be when everything was on high-alert, Futaba ran a scan. “Yep, they’re definitely out there. That’s a lot of police, Ace. Did they bring the whole force?”

“They really don’t want us to get away,” Goro said quietly. “But the plan will succeed.”

The elevator at the center of the Casino was a blessing, giving them a mostly-direct route to the manager’s floor. The cognitive employees hung back, most of them nervous in the oppressive atmosphere, and there weren’t as many guards as there could have been. It was clear that Shadow Sae wanted to deal with them herself. The Thieves made it to the Treasure location with no trouble, and then beyond, when Shadow Sae invited them farther. The roof of the Casino was a massive roulette wheel, and they found themselves hurled into yet another rigged game, at least until Morgana managed to snipe out the glass lid she was using to manipulate the spins.

And then Sae changed.

A massive shadow-monster took her place, and Makoto went pale. “S-Sis…” she stammered, shaking. They’d all seen their prior targets warp as the distortion truly took over, but none had ever been quite so upsetting. Haru’s father, at least, had still looked like himself.

_“This is my world!”_ Sae cried. _“Fine! You want to play fair? To hell with the game! The fairest thing is brute force!”_

Makoto was frozen, expression twisted in anguish, until Goro laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’re going to save her,” he said quietly, and when she looked up at him, she could see the pain in his eyes. She hadn’t realized until then how fond Goro was of her sister, but that look on his face was genuine, and she nodded firmly.

“Yes, I will. _We_ will.”

***

In the end, it was a hard-fought battle, but Sae eventually went down, and Makoto stepped in to talk to her. The rest of the Thieves gave her space, hovering near the edges of the wheel and trying to pretend they weren’t anxious.

Yusuke had pulled out a sketchbook, and Ann walked over to sit down beside him. “What are you doing?”

“Oracle hasn’t quite perfected the technology that will allow us to take photographs in the metaverse,” Yusuke said quietly. “But the places that we have visited, despite being warped delusions, are beautiful in their own way.” He flipped back a few pages, and Ann’s eyes widened. She remembered him sketching in the spaceport, and the buildings under the dome were rendered in careful detail. But as he kept flipping, she realized he had a view of the Pyramid from the distance, the combination-lock maze from the Bank as viewed from the elevator, and the expansive, towering grandeur of the Museum.

“I did Madarame’s and Kaneshiro’s from memory,” Yusuke said. “All of them were unpleasant places, but important experiences for all of us as a team, and those memories deserved to be preserved.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Ann said. “But you’re right. It’s good to remember.” She watched curiously as he flipped back and continued working on his sketch of the Casino, and eventually Haru and Goro wandered over to watch as well. Akira hung back with Morgana, Futaba, and Ryuji, keeping an eye on Makoto until she got up, scrubbing at her eyes as Sae’s shadow faded into glimmering lights and vanished.

“All right,” she said firmly. “Are we ready to do this?”

“The shadows are calming down,” Futaba said, summoning up a map to show them. “But the police are in position already. Joker’s going to have to draw their attention.”

“No problem,” Akira replied. “I have an idea. A better one than just waltzing out the front door.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Goro said sharply, walking over to examine Futaba’s map. He pointed to a narrow back hallway on the second floor, as Yusuke put away his sketchbook and all the Thieves gathered around. “This route leads to a fire escape concealed behind a large piece of the building’s facade. I left it out of the diagrams that I made for the police. The rest of you should be able to go out that way. I’ll leave separately so that I can contact the SIU director and confirm the operation’s success. Oracle, you’ve confirmed that you won’t need to return to the exact entry point?”

Futaba nodded. “We’ll be able to leave from anywhere once we get far enough away from the center of the distortion, so we can slip into the rest of the city and leave without the officers noticing us. I’ll get us out, Ace. No worries.”

“Guess it’s time for me to go, then,” Akira said, lifting a hand in a casual wave. “See you guys after I talk to Sae-san. Be safe.”

Goro caught Akira’s sleeve as he turned to go, tugging him back briefly to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. “Be careful, Joker.”

“I will.” Akira grinned. “Just make sure you’re watching. I’m going to be really cool.”

“That’s...not reassuring.” But Goro reluctantly let him go, watching him sprint back towards the main area of the Casino. He turned back to the rest of the Thieves, waving them off. “I’ll text you afterwards. All right?”

Everyone nodded, and Goro took a deep breath. “I’ll get him home. Now let’s go!”

He stayed with the rest of Thieves just long enough to make sure they were heading the right way, then veered off, making his way out of the building and around behind the assembled perimeter of officers so he would have a decent view and could confirm Akira’s arrest. He could hear the others chattering in his ear as he climbed a fire escape on a nearby building, grateful that his outfit was no longer quite so blindingly white.

Just when he was wondering what, exactly, Akira was planning to do, there was a cry of shock from the assembled officers as the stained-glass window above the main entrance shattered, a curled, mostly-black shape bursting through the middle of it. The shape unfurled into the form of his boyfriend, and even from back behind the crowd Goro could see the absolutely victorious grin on his face. He wondered what it would look like from a different angle, Akira silhouetted against the moon like the graceful, overdramatic moron that he was.

He watched Akira land with a careful roll that put him back on his feet, and he slowly turned to face the police, giving them just a moment to get a good look at him before he took off running. Goro watched, heart in his throat, as Akira threw himself up a nearby fire escape in an impressive display of acrobatics, and then winced as the officers waiting above nailed him in the face with the end of a rifle. That...hadn’t been part of the plan, and was probably going to leave a bruise. But once he’d confirmed Akira had been cuffed, Goro climbed down and hurried deeper into the cognitive city so he could activate the nav. There was a lot to do before public security questioning tomorrow.

***

Akira stayed silent as they walked him through the precinct. He stayed silent as they took his fingerprints, took mugshots, took his phone. Thankfully the phone was the only thing he’d had on him; he’d left his keys and wallet with Goro before they’d gone into the Casino.

It was only once they’d thrown him into a cell and left him there, informing him that questioning would begin the following day, that he realized he might have made a tiny mistake. Being locked up hadn’t been the thing he was worried about, but now that he was there, it was just bringing back exceptionally bad memories of the beginning of the year, knowing his parents _should_ be coming to get him, but unable to stop being afraid that they _wouldn’t_.

There was a thin blanket on the narrow cot, and he dragged it up and around his shoulders, taking a deep breath. They were just going to question him tomorrow, and Goro was coming to get him. Everything had been planned out to the letter. Everything was going to be okay.

***

On the train home, Akihiko was on the phone, watching the other passengers as he tried to fill Mitsuru in on everything that had happened without the whole train overhearing.

“Yeah, he’s going to be questioned tomorrow. The guards are going to take him down to the interrogation room, and then that prosecutor from the SIU gets to talk to him first. I think the detective kid is after that, because he was involved in the case. After that, I’m going to see if I can get near him. Even if not, though, we’re still on track to claim special custody, right?”

He lifted a hand in an absentminded wave as a man gave him a strange look, listening to Mitsuru on the other end of the line. “No, I know. Believe me, that’s the first thing I’m going to ask if I can get close enough. But listen, Mitsuru, I saw them bring him in. That’s a _kid_ in there. And he definitely didn’t look capable of murder. Something’s going on and people are anxious, and I just don’t want anything going wrong.” He lowered his voice. “The only thing we have going for us right now is that people think that us being dropped into meta-space was something the Thieves made us hallucinate.”

He sighed heavily, walking down the mostly-empty train car to lean against the pole beside the door. “Yeah. I know. Don’t worry. By Monday we can probably make a case for taking the kid into special custody. I’ll keep an eye on things, you worry about making sure Public Safety won’t be on our asses when we try to get him out of here. Yep. Same to you.”

He hung up the phone and tucked it back into his pocket, running a hand through his hair anxiously. He wasn’t a high-enough ranking officer to have demanded to see the suspect tonight. At this point, all he could do was offer to help transport him back from the interrogation room or something tomorrow. But he had a really bad feeling, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

They just had to get through the next few days, and then everything should come properly to light.

***

Akira woke the next morning to the sound of his cell door slamming open. Before he could even process what was going on, his hands were being wrenched behind his back, cuffs slapped on his wrists far too tightly. The metal chafed uncomfortably against his skin, and he yelped as one of the three guards dragged him unceremoniously towards the door, still sore from slamming into the ground after his fall from the fire escape.

“H-Hey! What’s going on?”

There was no response, and Akira tried to find his composure as they took him down an elevator and far down a hall to an interrogation room that looked just as much like a cell as the one he’d left. There was a single light in the ceiling, a security camera, and a table with two chairs, and that was it. Everything else was bare concrete, and he was practically tossed into a chair.

“So this is the dangerous phantom thief, huh?” a man in a suit that had accompanied them said. “You don’t look like much. Just some brat.”

Akira scowled, reflexively tugging at the handcuffs. It earned him a blow to the head, and he cried out as it sent pain flaring through the lump on his scalp where the gun had hit him the night before. He realized blearily that he didn’t know what time it was, didn’t know how long it would be until Sae showed up, nothing. It was almost enough to scare him.

“We don’t really need to ask you any questions. You were caught red-handed,” the man said casually. “The interrogation is more of a formality. All we need from you is your signature on this confession.”

“You can’t prove anything,” Akira spat. “I’m not signing that.” He hadn’t been planning to speak, but something about this man’s attitude was grating on his nerves.

The man raised his eyebrows. “We’ll see how you feel in a little while.”

One of the guards set a box on the table, opening it to reveal five syringes, and Akira went pale. “No,” he said, very quietly. “That’s… That’s illegal; you can’t…”

The guard picked up one of the syringes, and Akira was on his feet before he was conscious of moving. Hands bound or not, he was fast and he had good balance, and he did his best to back away, prepared to lash out and kick. He wasn’t letting them inject god-knows-what into him without a fight.

Two guards, larger than him and unhindered by cuffs, ended up being too much. He managed to keep one back with a poorly-aimed kick, but the other got close enough to slam his fist directly into Akira’s face, and while Akira reeled, the other guard recovered enough to punch him in the side, right in his ribs. He wheezed, the breath knocked out of him, and they grabbed him by his arms and held him still, ignoring him as he tried to wrench away, breathless protests getting steadily more panicked as the third guard approached him with the syringe and rolled up his sleeve.

“Stop, no, no, don’t! Please don’t!” But begging meant nothing, and he flinched away from the sharp jab of the needle, shutting his eyes in a halfhearted attempt to hide how afraid he was.

They left him on the floor as his head started to go hazy, and he blinked blearily at the man in the suit, who smiled cruelly and said, “We want to be sure that he signs this. Maybe another one, just to be sure…”

Akira’s gaze tracked the bright tip of the second needle, glinting in the light as it was brought closer and closer, and still he tried to fight even though he couldn’t do much more than squirm helplessly.

But it didn’t help.

Everything after that settled into a blur. He was returned to the chair at some point, and he passed out for a while. Water was thrown on him, he was beaten and bruised and hurled to the floor, kicked so hard he thought he would throw up, had a boot slammed onto his leg hard enough that he thought it would break. He laid there, half-certain he was crying as that same boot ground against the side of his head, crushing it to the floor, right against the bruises from before.

He was uncuffed, shakily signed the clipboard when the man threatened to break his other leg, and was kicked back to the floor as soon as he was done.

He laid there, certain he was going to die.

And then he was at the table, Sae was there in front of him asking about how everything had begun, and he swallowed roughly, with a dry mouth and blurry vision, and started talking. He talked and talked and talked, rambling meaningless details and fantastical descriptions of heists. As he tried to weave the story together, he grew more and more vague, the drugs blanketing things in an increasingly thick fog the closer he got to present-day. The one thing that cut through the haze was that he couldn’t name his friends. He couldn’t. Or everything would go wrong. No matter how many times she asked, no matter what she demanded, he wouldn’t give any of them away.

“Your boyfriend, at least, had to know that you were a phantom thief,” Sae insisted, and Akira shook his head weakly.

“Love him. Wouldn’t put him in danger…” he murmured.

“But with who you’ve implied it was, he’s far too smart to not have noticed,” Sae said. “Was he helping you? Just give me _something_.” But Akira refused to elaborate further, and she sighed. “Tell me about your next target, then. The calling card was sent to me.”

Akira tried to focus on the next Palace, the next target, but he felt like he could barely grasp what had happened. His memories had grown blurrier and blurrier. He spoke about seeing the Casino for the first time, but then he stopped, trying to think. There was something else. He could vaguely remember that Goro was going to betray them somehow. Had he called the police? There were hazy memories of a quiet night in Shinjuku, little more than feelings and muffled words. A maze that looked like Mementos but wasn’t. An impression of color, a whole rainbow, important for some reason. None of it was clear. And there was something he had to do. There had been a plan. He felt like he was missing something, that he was supposed to be saying something, telling her something.

“We did...something else,” he muttered. “Couldn’t finish the Palace…right away. Had to plan…” 

Sae frowned. “Do you mean you had another target? No other calling cards were reported.” She glanced at the syringes left on the floor bitterly. “These drugs are probably causing your memory issues… I can’t believe they thought this would help.”

Akira frowned, head almost slipping from where he’d propped it on his hand, and she leaned forward across the table. “Hey, don’t drift off now, you’re almost to the end. Tell me about the rest of this ‘Palace’.”

He gripped at his hair, trying to focus through the pain. Futaba had done something, she’d worked so hard, and he was supposed to be pulling off a trick… “Went back to the Casino, all of us… Knew we were going to be sold out.” He took a shuddering breath. He knew there had been another floor, and that they had to have fought Sae’s shadow, but he couldn’t remember a thing about it. “I went out the front, so they could get away.”

Sae folded her arms. “That’s it, then? You went back, had to run, and that’s how you ended up here. Your so-called heist was leaked, you didn’t manage to steal my ‘Treasure’, and you were betrayed. It’s hard to believe the methods you’ve described, but I don’t have time to ask more.” His vision was still blurry, but he was almost certain that she was looking at him with derision. “What a disappointing end to the supposed hero of justice. There’s no point in being stubborn now that everything is over, so I’m going to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?” Akira repeated.

“I have a responsibility to close this case. That means tracking down all of the loose ends,” she said. “If you cooperate, I can try to get you a lighter sentence, but otherwise you will be facing life imprisonment...or the death penalty.”

_Life imprisonment...or the death penalty._

“C-Can’t…” he croaked, trying to think through the drugs. “‘m a minor…”

Sae shook her head. There was a flicker of sympathy in her expression, but it wasn’t enough. “These are special circumstances. With the amount of deaths and injuries you’ve seemingly caused, plus the general mayhem for over a year, I can almost guarantee they’ll make an exception. Unless you take my deal, so I can try to lighten your sentence.”

She started reading a list of names. Every one of the Thieves, neatly printed on a sheet of paper, and when she asked if they were his accomplices he told her no, his hands shaking. She asked if he would reveal the other people that had helped him, and he refused once more.

“They’ve all sacrificed you so that they could escape. Are you really going to martyr yourself for them?” Sae asked.

Akira shuddered. They hadn’t. There had been a plan… He was supposed to…

Someone had been missing from the list, and Sae set her papers down. “There’s one more person. Akechi Goro. There were reports that he was working with you as well, and based on your story you two seemed very close. Was he a Phantom Thief?”

“No,” Akira rasped, frightened. He could feel the metaphorical noose, tighter and tighter around his neck as he cut off his escape routes one-by-one, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t sacrifice his friends in his place. And certainly he couldn’t hand over Goro. There was a plan, they needed him. Akira cared too much about him, even if Goro had sold them out. And if the police got hold of him he would surely hang for what he had done.

“Well, as you clearly have no intentions of bargaining with me...” Sae said, beginning to get up.

And now Akira would hang instead, if he couldn’t remember. What was he supposed to do? Something about the phone…

He pointed at it weakly where it sat on the table, and Sae glanced at it. “Hm? What about the phone?”

“You have to take it,” Akira managed. His hand was shaking, and he could feel his heart racing. “The true culprit...is still out there…”

“Are you still determined to cling to that?” she said, clearly frustrated. “If you’re implying we don’t have any evidence, you’re right. Nothing concrete. And your story sounds like a fantasy. But we need to know the truth, and if you won’t tell me everything, I can only draw my own conclusions.”

Akira’s thoughts were growing increasingly panicked. Why couldn’t he remember? There had been something else, but the whole time from the beginning of the Casino to now was so blurred… 

“That isn’t truth,” he whispered. “That isn’t justice.”

“And what gives you the right to decide what is and isn’t justice?” Sae demanded, slamming her hands on the tabletop.

Akira looked down at his marred wrists, his bruised hands. “Is this justice?” he asked. Sae looked startled, and he pointed at the phone again. “Just, please, take it,” he said, almost pleading, and Sae stared at him.

“I barely know what the truth is anymore, thanks to that ridiculous story you’ve told,” she said. “But… I’ve listened to everything so far. I may as well play along until the end.” She picked up the phone, tucking it into her pocket, and her expression had softened. “I just have to take it with me?”

He swallowed hard. “I...yes.” He wasn’t sure, but this was all he could do. Did she believe him now because her heart was changing? Was it just enough to get her to do this?

Sae headed for the door. “Very well. I wish I had more time; I’d like to have asked a few more questions.” She turned back to look at him. “I’m taking a gamble on you, okay? I’ll do this, at least.”

Then she was gone, and Akira could feel the familiar burn of one of his bonds, somewhere inside him. But he paid it no mind, his muddled thoughts trying to wrap around what he couldn’t remember. They’d been sold out. Goro had been planning to betray them. Futaba had done something to his phone, so that she could speak to Niijima, but also…

_”I know, sir. The staged suicide.”_

He felt dizzy as panic overwhelmed him. He hadn’t told her to show Goro the phone. Goro was planning to kill him; that was what this whole plan was to avoid, and he’d ruined it, he’d messed up. He wouldn’t have to wait for them to decide to hang him. He was going to die right here.

His heartbeat had sped up, and he tried to take deep breaths to calm down, but it felt like he couldn’t get enough air. Everything was going increasingly fuzzy, and when the door finally opened to admit the teenage detective, he struggled to maintain a calm facade.

Goro turned to him and smiled.

“Bang. You’re dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I thought about how all those fucking police got into the Casino, the less I understood it. So here we are, doing our best. X’D Poor Akira, though, confused and drugged up to his eyeballs. Am I exaggerating a bit for angst purposes? Probably, but it was too good to pass up.
> 
> I had...not a great week. I’m still not having a great week, honestly, but it’s okay. Thank you guys for being so patient; ideally I won’t have to skip any more days and we can smash our way through the ship next. ...after Akira stops being bruised to kingdom come, anyway.
> 
> One week until the P5 anime! Everything I’ve seen so far looks so _pretty_. I am HYPED.
> 
> Also, finally finished drawing what [Ace's outfit](http://twilightknight17.tumblr.com/post/172461705299/) looks like. I'm really happy with how it turned out. ^_^
> 
> Next chapter: Playing triple agent already isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but it’s even harder when your boyfriend has _forgotten that that’s what you’re doing._


	43. November 20th, 2016

The bluish stone cube was a little brighter than usual when Goro woke up there.

The crack in the wall was slightly bigger, letting in a sliver of light, and for the first time he could truly hear the music that had always been muffled in the background. He pushed himself upright and made his way over to the crack, trying to see through it, but all that was really visible was just more stone walls beyond.

“Is this the Velvet Room?” he asked, slightly unnerved. The voice usually spoke to him almost immediately. What had Akira said its name was? “Are you Igor?”

**“You have been speaking with the Trickster,”** the voice said. It didn’t sound pleased. Rather, it sounded almost surreally neutral. Goro recognized the tone; he’d used it himself often enough.

“Kurusu-kun has given me an opportunity to finally achieve my revenge,” he replied. “Not the way I originally intended, but it’s a good plan.”

**“I see.”**

Goro pushed himself back towards his usual corner, feeling uncomfortable in a way that he didn’t normally in this place. “He comes here, too,” he said, doing his best to keep any sort of accusation out of his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The voice chuckled dryly. **“Each side of a game requires the same opportunities in order to make it fair. It was to be assumed that your opponent would have the same access as you.”**

“But it isn’t fair!” Goro burst out. “He said that you’ve shown him how to fuse personas, and helped him with his powers. You’ve never helped me! I didn’t even know things like that were possible until I talked to him!”

**“This place reflects the state of your heart. You cannot lay blame elsewhere for the fact that your heart is so closed-off.”**

He flinched like he’d been slapped, withdrawing further into the corner. It would be his fault, wouldn’t it? But there was more light, now. The wall was coming down, a little at a time, and he would guess it was thanks to Akira. Maybe one day he would have the same chances to work with other personas.

**“Be careful around the Trickster. It is in his nature to be capricious,”** the voice warned. **“The game is not over just yet. Do not let your guard down.”**

Goro just nodded, not willing to mention his thoughts on that. Akira was capricious, yes, but also fiercely loyal and affectionate. He was starting to wonder if the voice -- who had never actually confirmed that he was Igor -- truly knew anything about Akira at all. Because to hear it speaking of him like that, something seemed wrong, even if he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

They couldn’t still be opponents after all this time, could they? Their purposes had merged.

When he woke up, he just laid there for a second, trying to process. He was grateful that he was so used to passing out from exhaustion. Otherwise he probably wouldn’t have slept at all the night before, too worried about what he was going to have to pull off to get Akira out of jail.

There wasn’t time to think about that encounter in the Velvet Room now. Today was going to be a long day as it was.

***

His first stop was SIU headquarters. After confirming Akira’s arrest with the director the previous night, he’d asked to meet with him early this afternoon. The man looked confused when Goro walked in, and he asked immediately, without preamble, “What is this about, Akechi? You and Niijima already have the authorization to ‘question’ the phantom thief. What is there left to talk about?”

“Something quite important, actually,” Goro said coolly. “I received an order from Shido-san last night. I called him after I called you, and he gave me very specific instructions.”

“Oh?” the director said. “Well, out with it. What does he want now?”

“You’ve outlived your usefulness, _sir_ ,” Goro said, pulling at Loki to maintain a flat, cold expression. “He wants you to have a mental shutdown.”

The director’s eyes went wide. “Wh-What? But that’s… I’ve been loyal!”

“I told him that things are going to be in quite an uproar with the suicide of the Thieves’ leader, and that it would be unwise to cause a shutdown without them to blame it on,” Goro said calmly. He watched the director squirm for a moment, then waved carelessly, not realizing until after he’d done it that it was a gesture Akira commonly made. “I’ve come to offer you a bit of advice, sir. Leave. Disappear as completely as you can, and keep your silence, before I’m forced to take action. Consider this a favor for your support of me all this time.” He offered the director a charming smile, and the man looked frantic, rummaging through his papers.

“I’ll leave as soon as I can. You’re a good man, Akechi. I knew you were something special when the department hired you.”

Goro didn’t respond to that. People would say anything to protect their own lives. He just didn’t want Goro to change his mind and come after him later.

He left the office with a curt wave, abandoning the director to his frantic attempts to assemble an escape. Shido wouldn’t go looking for him. Goro had promised his father that he would make the director disappear so completely that no one would be able to find him, in lieu of a mental shutdown. If he disappeared of his own volition, Shido would assume Goro had succeeded and that the director was dead. And Goro had already checked with Futaba to ensure that _they_ could still find him, to make sure he paid for his crimes as well once Shido’s conspiracy was exposed.

***

When Goro arrived at the precinct, the people that weren’t working on anything specific were hovering around in a state of agitation. Apparently having the phantom thief in the building was enough to make them all nervous. He supposed he couldn’t really blame them. After all, no one outside of a select few truly knew how the Thief of Hearts carried out his crimes. For all they knew, proximity could be enough.

Asking around told him that Sae hadn’t started interviewing Akira until the afternoon, around when he’d been to see the director. He still had plenty of time to kill before she would be finished, so he made his way down to the morgue, where the coroner looked _incredibly_ nervous upon seeing him.

“A-Akechi-kun! What brings you here…?” he said, clearly not prepared for a visit.

“I’m just here to ensure that you know your part in all of this. Start filling out the death certificate,” Goro said coldly, ignoring the man’s surprise that he was in on it. “You know what needs to be done.” He fixed his best glare on the man. “The guard is going to take care of the body afterwards. Make sure that no one else looks into this; the fewer people that are involved, the less likely it is that anything can be traced. And our employer will appreciate your discretion.”

“S-Someone else is going to take care of the body?” the coroner asked tentatively.

“Yes. If anything goes wrong, you will not be directly implicated and it will look like incompetence instead of deliberate action. Our employer appreciates your cooperation.” Goro knew it was risky to expose himself as being part of the plan, but he needed an excuse for the coroner not being given a body when this was over, and there were no cameras in the morgue to catch him giving incorrect details. If he thought the guard had handled it, and the guard thought the coroner had handled it, it would take a long time for anyone to figure out that the body was missing, much less what had happened, and ideally they would be well on their way to taking out Shido before then.

There was always the chance the coroner could point fingers at him, but he was trusting that everyone was too anxious to cross Shido to even question it.

When he returned to the lobby, he was forced to wait around until he was informed that Sae should be finishing up soon. They’d given her a lot longer than he anticipated; it was almost early evening. The sun was already going down. But engineering the interrogations so that people would be going home was smart. Fewer people in the building meant that there would be less chance of someone stumbling on the death at the wrong time. And now, with the plan, it meant fewer people around to see him and Akira leaving.

***

Goro took the elevator down to the interrogation level just in time to see Sae walking towards him, looking puzzled. She glanced up at him, and he smiled.

“Did the interrogation go well, Sae-san?”

“It was certainly a story,” she said, something in her expression that he couldn’t quite place. “I’m curious now whether it’s a good idea for you to interrogate him. You likely have a personal stake in this case.”

Goro blinked. How much of their relationship had Akira told her? “Regardless of my feelings on the matter, I have a responsibility to bring the perpetrators to justice,” he said calmly. “I hope that you, too, found a satisfactory answer.” He didn’t miss how her expression wavered, how her hand in her pocket shifted. She must have taken Akira’s phone, just like they’d planned. Now Futaba could talk to her and ask for her help, while he dealt with getting Akira out of the interrogation room.

They went their separate ways, and Goro stopped beside the guard at the door, who glanced at him. “Everything is going according to plan?”

Goro nodded, gaze drifting to the gun on the man’s belt. “The coroner will take care of the body afterwards,” he said. “But...there is something you should know.”

“What is it?” the guard asked.

“I was meant to ask you to accompany me, and kill you as well,” Goro said bluntly, and the guard’s eyes widened. “I see no reason for such needless bloodshed, but our employer was very insistent. So I suggest that if you wish to remain alive, you leave as soon as possible. Go into hiding until this all blows over.”

The guard looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “Y-Yes, sir!” he stammered, and as Goro opened the door he heard the man hurrying away down the hall. Apparently telling people the truth was a particularly valuable weapon after all, in certain circumstances.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, then turned to Akira, a smile tugging at his lips. “Bang. You’re dead,” he quipped, bringing up one hand to point a finger gun in his boyfriend’s direction. But then his expression fell as he truly _saw_ him, and his eyes went wide with concern. “Akira?”

He took a few steps towards Akira, who flinched back, looking panicked and afraid. “Goro…” he said, his voice rough and fuzzy. “Please…”

Goro looked around the room, wondering what on earth had happened, and maroon eyes found the abandoned syringes on the floor. “Oh, no…” he whispered, leaning over to pick one up. There was a dribble of liquid still inside, and he reached into his pocket for a tissue and wrapped it up. A doctor would be able to tell what they had injected Akira with, hopefully, and he stuffed the syringe into his coat pocket.

When he turned his attention back to Akira, he realized that the other boy’s pupils were dilated and his hands were trembling. Every small bit he shifted caused a flicker of pain to cross his face, and he looked so _afraid_ that it broke Goro’s heart. He hurried closer, around the table, and Akira let out a frightened little cry as Goro reached up to gently cup his bruised face. “Oh, Akira…”

“Please don’t do it,” Akira whispered, leaning into his hands.

“I won’t,” Goro replied, feeling his heart clench painfully. There was only one thing Akira could possibly mean, if he was drugged enough to be scared of him. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Akira’s eyes filled with tears. “My head’s too fuzzy to tell if you’re lying,” he said pitifully, his breath hitching. “I can usually tell.”

Goro didn’t know whether to be amazed or annoyed that Akira could ‘usually tell’. He was aware, however, that somewhere deep down there was a dark part of him that was _happy_ to see Akira like this. Perfect Akira, always so collected… This was a sort of vulnerability that he would never show anyone under normal circumstances. But the feeling only lasted for a second, smothered by genuine worry that Akira could be terribly hurt. His unfocused eyes indicated a concussion at least, and as Goro tried to help him stand up, he whined with pain at the slightest pressure on his ribs.

His right leg nearly buckled when they finally got him on his feet, and Goro bit his lip. He hadn’t been expecting Akira to be so badly off. This was going to make it incredibly difficult to get out of here, and if they couldn’t rely on Sae’s help, it would be near-impossible.

Quietly he thanked himself for picking bouldering as a hobby, because otherwise there was no way he’d be able to carry Akira out of the building. As it was, he scooped up the thief into an awkward princess-carry, Akira’s head lolling against his shoulder.

“I know it hurts,” he said in response to the pained moan he got for his trouble. “We have to go, though, so just bear with it for a little while, please.” It took some careful maneuvering, but he got the door back open and carried Akira into the hall. 

He’d barely taken ten steps before the elevator opened and Sae stepped out. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and he froze. This was the moment of truth. But if she had come back...

“Akechi-kun?” she said, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking a step back, his stance blatantly protective.

“Sae-san,” he acknowledged.

She looked past him, towards the interrogation room. “Where’s the guard?”

“Gone,” Goro replied tersely. “He wouldn’t have had long to live if he stayed. Witnesses aren’t appreciated when you’re trying to pull off an assassination. I’m assuming that Oracle told you that there is a conspiracy out to kill him?”

“Yes. I was contacted through his phone. The person on the other end gave me the name of the person responsible.” Sae folded her arms. “Shido Masayoshi.”

Goro glanced down at where Akira’s fingers had curled weakly into his coat. “Yes. Shido wants him dead, to lay the blame for the mental shutdowns at his feet.” He would normally never stoop so low as to plead for help, but with Akira in this state, there was little he could do to get him all the way back to Yongen on his own. “Sae-san, please… Help us.”

Sae glanced up at the cameras that lined the hallway. “Are we being recorded?” she asked, beckoning him to follow, and he hurried after her as quickly as he could without jostling Akira.

“The cameras are off. I am assuming they were cut off hours ago to avoid capturing whoever did this to him,” he said. After a moment of hesitation, he added quietly, “Will you promise me something?”

“Hm?” They stepped into the elevator, and she looked at him curiously.

“Please, you’ve listened to everything so far. Do not judge what I am about to tell you until we can explain everything.” He took a deep breath. “The cameras won’t cut back on until I call Shido.”

He watched Sae’s expression shift slowly, from confusion, to contemplation, to the slow, horrified realization of what he was telling her. “Until _you_ call Shido?” she said, looking from him to the battered thief in his arms. “ _You_ were meant to kill him?” Her eyes widened. “That was _your_ voice on that recording she played for me.”

Akira, barely conscious, clutched tighter to Goro’s coat, and he nodded. “It was,” he said softly. “But...well, he changed my heart, to put it simply.”

“He didn’t mention that in his story. Was he trying to protect you?” Sae seemed torn between wariness and pity.

Goro smiled sadly. “I don’t think he remembers. Whatever they gave him is affecting his memory. When I walked into the interrogation room, he begged me not to kill him.”

When they arrived on the main floor, Sae pointed deeper into the back hallways. “I’ll bring my car around if you think you can get him to the back door on your own. Where are we taking him afterwards?”

“Yongen-Jaya,” Goro replied. “And I can get him there. Thank you.” They parted ways, and he slipped down the empty hallways, alert for any sound of anyone still there. But he made it to the back door with no interruptions, and he quietly marvelled at how well this entire thing had been set up in his favor. If he’d intended to actually murder Akira, no one would have seen him leave the precinct either.

Together, he and Sae bundled Akira into the back seat, covering him with a thick blanket and letting his head rest in Goro’s lap. And there, sitting in the car, he called Shido.

“My job is complete.” His voice took on that cold, impersonal tone that he used with his father, and he caught a glimpse of Sae staring at him in the rearview mirror as she climbed into the front seat. Calmly he assured Shido that the rest of the Phantom Thieves wouldn’t be a threat without their leader, and that he would take steps to deal with them once the election had safely passed. “More importantly, they should be dealing with the suicide right about now. I’ll prepare comments on the matter; I’m sure the talk shows will all want my opinion.” He smiled, flat and empty. “Yes, sir. It will be taken care of.”

When he hung up the phone, Sae started the car, still frowning into the mirror at him. “That’s how you speak to Shido?”

“He doesn’t appreciate emotion,” Goro said, shifting to make Akira more comfortable on his lap. “So long as I complete my tasks, that is all that is important.”

“...I can’t believe that I never realized, Akechi-kun,” she said, and he shook his head.

“As long as Akira is safe...that’s all that matters now,” he said.

Goro was tense the entire car ride, the blanket pulled up almost all the way over Akira’s head just in case someone happened to glance into the windows. There weren’t as many people on the roads this late, so that was a blessing, and Sae took a roundabout path towards the backstreets of Yongen, avoiding main roads where it was more likely someone would see them. But halfway there, Akira started to stir, and as he seemed to regain consciousness he began to thrash, his eyes empty and panicked. Goro struggled to keep his limbs under control as Sae glanced into the backseat.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, and Goro shook his head.

“I think the drugs are wearing off, and he’s still confused and afraid,” he replied, wincing as a flailing hand lashed across his face. A spark of inspiration hit him, and he ran his hand through Akira’s hair, one stroke, two. “Akira, you giant angry cat, listen to me. You have to stop moving. You’ll hurt yourself even worse.”

Akira made a pathetic, confused sound, but he stopped fighting to get away, and Goro breathed a sigh of relief. That relief lasted all of two seconds, though, before Akira whimpered, “Are you taking me to be hanged?”

Goro’s eyes widened. “What did you _tell him?_ ” he demanded, kicking the back of Sae’s seat as hard as he could without disturbing Akira’s head. He didn’t wait for an answer, saying quickly, “Akira, _no_. I know you’re hurting, but you’re okay. Sae-san and I got you out. We’re going home. We’re taking you back to Yongen. Just lie still before you aggravate your injuries.”

“She said they’d give me the death penalty,” Akira choked, and Goro bit his lip, leaning over as best he could to kiss the thief’s forehead.

“They’d have to get through me first.”

A flicker of recognition returned to Akira’s gaze, but his eyes were still slightly unfocused, and Goro continued to pet him in a desperate hope that it would keep him calm. “We’re going home,” he repeated. “We’re going to get someone to help you. God, I’m sorry, this is all my fault…”

“Akechi-kun, hush. It’s not your fault,” Sae said from the front seat. “You weren’t the one who beat him half to death.”

“It was my fault they even came up with this plan,” Goro muttered, but didn’t argue beyond that. He kept his attention on Akira, hating the way his expression scrunched with pain every time the car hit a bump. Just a little farther, and they would be safe.

Just a little longer…

***

Around 8pm, Tokyo’s main news channel had flipped abruptly to a special report. All around the city, people paused to watch the breaking news that the teenage leader of the Phantom Thieves, taken into custody the night before, had stolen the gun of one of the guards after his interrogation and shot himself, ending his life and taking all evidence of his motives with him.

Most people reacted with shock. Some with scorn, believing that he’d gotten what he deserved. And in a few select apartments and offices, including outside the city where people had been watching via livestream, pandemonium broke out.

“Th-This can’t be happening,” Hamuko said shakily. She and Shinjiro had showed up at the Shadow Operatives’ headquarters after the initial report of the arrest that morning, ready to make a move as soon as it was deemed necessary. But now it was nearly forty minutes after the report of the suicide, and it still didn’t feel real.

“He was a _kid_ ,” Shinjiro added roughly. “He wasn’t any older than any of us were.”

Fuuka was on the sofa, her face pale as she texted at lightning speed, talking with Yukari and Junpei. Akihiko was on the phone with Chie, agitated. He’d been ordered to go home after the deputy chief had noticed him hovering near the elevators, and now he was wondering if it had already been too late then. None of them had heard from Yu, but they could only imagine he wasn’t taking it well. And Mitsuru had been on the phone with Naoto for twenty minutes, trying to figure out who they would need to speak to and what the best questions to ask would be. Because her initial impulse of _‘What the hell happened here?’_ was definitely not the way to go, and Naoto’s familiarity with how police departments operated plus her cool head was helping.

Mitsuru’s cell phone, sitting on the corner of the desk, started ringing. Mitsuru took one look at it and waved Fuuka over to take the office phone and speak to Naoto, already knowing that this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation.

“Mochizuki,” she greeted when she answered.

_“Hey, Mitsuru-senpai.”_ His voice was deceptively casual, but she recognized that tone. It was one he used when he was trying desperately to be upbeat despite the situation. Most of them hadn’t heard it since New Year’s Eve, seven years ago, when he’d brightly wished them a happy new year despite being terrified of watching them all die. _“I’m guessing things are rough over there?”_

“An understatement,” Mitsuru said flatly. “We’re working on figuring out what happened, but--” She paused at what sounded like an explosion somewhere in the background, and asked bluntly, “Where exactly are you right now?”

_“At the quarry,”_ Ryoji said, and some of the false cheer had drained from his voice. _“Liz called up a Velvet door and she and Minato have basically gone nuclear at it. Liz has broken three battle axes already. I didn’t even realize she’d brought that many.”_

Mitsuru frowned. “What about the others?” she asked.

There was a colossal boom from the other end of the phone that sounded like a lightning bolt striking uncomfortably close, and then Ryoji said, _“Theo hasn’t said much. Margaret’s blaming herself. Ken and Koromaru are here; they’re pretty shaken up. But Minato’s taking it the hardest. He’s so upset; he knows that something must be wrong because Igor would never let a Wild Card die like that.”_

“I would agree with that based on what the two of you have said about him, since I have only met him once,” Mitsuru said. “Please look after Amada-kun for me, and Minato.”

_“I will. As long as you promise to figure this out. We’re...really not doing so great here, as much as I don’t want to admit it.”_ Ryoji sounded so tired. _“At this point, I’m just waiting for Mina and Liz to wear themselves out so we can go home.”_

“I’ll keep you updated.” Mitsuru faltered, just a little. “And tell Minato that I’m sorry. Things shouldn’t have been allowed to get this far.”

_“It’s not your fault. None of us have made enough progress. But if our youngest Wild Card is dead, we’ve got to figure this out. For him, too.”_

***

When Ryoji hung up, he glanced down at Ken, who was leaned listlessly against his side, watching Minato and Elizabeth. Minato had given up on spells, joining Elizabeth in just beating against the door with whatever weapons they’d brought with them. Theodore and Margaret were back at the dorm, coping in their own ways. Koromaru was curled sadly on top of Ryoji’s feet, and he reached down to pet his ears.

“I’m sure they’ll wear themselves out soon, guys,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. He wrapped his other arm around Ken, not sure what else to say.

What was there to say, when things had gone this wrong?

***

Sojiro hadn’t been at Leblanc this late in a long time.

He was rearranging the pantry, trying not to let himself get consumed by worry. The kids had promised that everything was going to go according to plan, but the thing about plans was that they could go wrong, very easily. It wasn’t helping that the cat, which he still wasn’t sure he believed could talk, was pacing back and forth on the counter. Sojiro didn’t even have the heart to tell him to get down.

The TV was on in the background as he tried to decide whether salt and sugar should go on the same shelf, or whether that was a recipe for disaster. Earlier, they’d come on with a special bulletin about how the leader of the Phantom Thieves had committed suicide in custody, and he hadn’t been able to think straight since. He couldn’t shake the worry that their trick had ended up being reality.

The bell above the door rang, and Sojiro leaned out of the kitchen as Morgana let out a distressed-sounding yowl. He’d left the door unlocked in anticipation of Akira coming back with the prosecutor and the detective’s help, but when he actually saw the state the leader of the Phantom Thieves was in, his jaw dropped.

Akira looked like hell. There was no softer way to describe it. He was covered in bruises on every visible patch of skin, including a painful-looking, swollen one on his cheekbone. There were marks around his wrists, clearly left by handcuffs that had been fastened too tight. And he barely put any weight on his right leg, stumbling like a half-cut marionette and leaning heavily on Goro instead.

“God, what happened to him?” Sojiro demanded, rounding the counter. Akira’s head tipped up, his eyes glassy with pain, and he tried to speak but no words came out. His voice had gone, finally worn out.

Goro paused only to flip the lock behind him, and then he and Sae maneuvered Akira farther into the cafe. “The police happened to him. They drugged him and beat him,” Goro said, and there was venom in his tone. “Sakura-san, I swear, I didn’t realize they would be so harsh.”

“I’m not blaming you, kid. Jesus…” He came over to take Sae’s place, and together they got Akira up the stairs and laid out on his own bed, Morgana trailing anxiously behind them. “I have a place we can take him, but I need to know how badly injured he is first.”

Goro turned to Sae. “There’s a phone number in Akira’s phone. Doctor Takemi. Please call her and ask her to come right away.”

Sae nodded, not asking any questions for once, and stepped to one side as Goro and Sojiro began to carefully get Akira out of his ruined, bloodstained clothes. The more they removed, the more apparent Akira’s injuries became, and Sojiro cursed under his breath. There was a massive bruise in the middle of his abdomen, already turning a horrific mess of blues and purples, and another on his right thigh that was so dark it was nearly black in a few spots.

“Someone kicked him,” Sojiro said, frowning. “And tried to break his leg, it looks like.”

Goro sat beside Akira’s head, running his fingers through his matted curls gently, trying to offer some kind of comfort. “Akira? Can you hear me?” Morgana hopped from the floor, to Goro’s lap, to the bed, curling up in the un-bruised space between Akira’s neck and shoulder and purring loudly.

Akira took a rattling breath, hand creeping up until he could reach Goro’s other hand and squeeze tightly. _Don’t leave,_ he mouthed, and Goro shook his head.

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **RANK UP**  
>  **CONFIDANTE SOJIRO SAKURA**  
>  **HIEROPHANT RANK 2**
> 
> **RANK UP**  
>  **CONFIDANTE SAE NIIJIMA**  
>  **CHARIOT RANK 5**
> 
> So his rank with Sojiro basically reset to 1 after the Black Mask reveal. But it didn’t break completely, so there’s still hope there. I have no concept of how his rank with Sae is going. I basically picked a number that seemed reasonable. It’ll hit 10 by the time we get to the ending, though.
> 
> Taking some definite liberties with timing and all sorts of things here just in the interest of actually making sense. There’s a lot of things that the game doesn’t explicitly say, so I’m just rolling with it.
> 
> (Gonna link my [Hours tag](http://twilightknight17.tumblr.com/tagged/Hours!verse/) here because _other people_ drew Ace and I’m dying? Like oh my god the idea that people would take time out of their day to draw art of something I wrote never ceases to make me really happy. Thank you guys so much.)
> 
> Next chapter: We’re taking a slight detour from canon in the interest of desperately trying not to break the plot too soon, Sojiro learns firsthand what kind of shenanigans the Phantom Thieves get up to, and the Shadow Operatives learn that there is something _very_ wrong going on in the Tokyo police department.


	44. November 21st, 2016

It was after midnight by the time Tae had managed to get a solid grasp on the scope of Akira’s injuries. She had come over with her bag almost immediately because Goro had figured out partway into a very defensive phone call that ‘guinea pig’ was the magic word, but Akira was so badly battered that it took a long time to check him over.

“At least two fractured ribs,” she said, perched on Akira’s desk chair and checking things off on a clipboard. “They’re not broken, thankfully, or he would be on the way to a hospital, playing dead or not. Let’s see…”

Sae still looked confused at the punk-aesthetic woman that had shown up with a full bag of doctor’s implements. Tae tapped a black-polished fingernail against against the paper. “Probable concussion, impossible to tell how severe since he’s not awake to explain what happened. Someone will need to watch him overnight to make sure he’s not getting any worse, and regular check-ins for at least a week.”

“I’ll watch him tonight,” Sojiro said gruffly. “And the kid’s got enough friends that he’ll have no shortage of check-ins, as long as they’re careful.”

Goro sighed. He’d been trying to keep up with the group chat for over two hours. Futaba had seen them arrive at Leblanc on her bugs and had promptly texted everyone else in a panic when she saw the condition Akira was in, and now Goro was trying to feed them enough information to assure them that their leader wasn’t about to drop dead.

“The bruises,” Tae continued, “are pretty nasty, but should clear up fine as long as he rests. You can use cold compresses, but not for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Keep an eye on them, though, especially that one on his leg. If any of them seem like they’re getting more painful, or they feel like they’re turning into a lump, call me. It could be a hematoma or some kind of infection. On that note, keep an eye on the scrapes too. I’ve gotten them cleaned out, but there’s no telling what he might have picked up from that room.” She looked around at the three of them. “And he’s going to be hurting pretty badly for a while, just so you know. I’m recommending nothing strenuous for at _least_ three weeks. Ideally six, because of the ribs, but the fractures don’t seem severe from what I can tell, and I’m willing to bet he will refuse to sit still that long.”

Goro did some quick math in his head. Ideally, they would have to deal with Shido before the election, meaning roughly three weeks into December. That gave them a week to run the ship if they gave Akira the minimum amount of time to recover, but Goro was confident that it wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Shido trusted him hopefully just enough to let him waltz right through most of it. They would just have to find a way through that door…

“Is it safe to move him?” Sojiro asked. “We were planning to take him somewhere else.”

“As long as you’re careful, don’t jostle his head too much, and mind his ribs,” Tae said. “I wouldn’t recommend it normally, but this seems like a necessary thing.”

“What is he allowed to take for the pain?” Goro asked. It was the first thing he’d said in a long while, choosing to keep his focus on relaying what Tae said to the rest of the team and petting Akira’s hair.

“Right now? Unfortunately, nothing.” The doctor gestured to the syringe Goro had brought, which was abandoned on the desk. “I can’t tell what they gave him without extensive labwork. By the time we figured it out, it would be out of his system anyway. If I had to guess, it’s probably hyoscine, but I don’t want to risk it.” She paused. “Although, if they injected him with that much hyoscine, it’s a wonder he didn’t stop breathing at some point. Anyway, it should be mostly -- _mostly_ \-- out of his system by late tomorrow morning, and then he can take acetaminophen as needed. I don’t want to recommend anything stronger until we see how his concussion is progressing.” 

Sojiro nodded. “Thanks for coming so quickly. I didn’t realize you knew what he was up to, too.”

Tae chuckled. “He buys enough medicine for ten people, and the Phantom Thieves did me a favor. It wasn’t hard to put together after a while.” She gathered up her things, walking over to take one last look down at Akira. “He’s a good kid. I always hoped he’d never get this badly hurt. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else, okay?”

They all agreed, and after the doctor had left, Sojiro looked around at them all. “I have an apartment he can stay at. The police will know who he is by now; even if they think he’s dead, they may come to search the place. I’m going to call his school in the morning and let them know that he had to go home for a ‘family emergency’, but it’ll be best if he’s not here.”

Morgana, who had remained curled against Akira’s shoulder for most of the time Tae had been there, got to his feet and looked at Goro. “What if we stopped at a train station first and took him to Mementos? We could try to heal him at least a little.”

Goro’s eyes widened, and Sojiro looked to him curiously. “What did he say?”

“Sakura-san, how active is Yongen at night? Would it be possible to get close to the station without being seen?” Goro asked. “We might be able to do something for his injuries.”

“I’m sorry, are you implying that the cat was talking?” Sae asked, and all three of them were awkwardly silent for a second before Sojiro shrugged.

“I don’t ask a lot of questions anymore,” he said. “Anyway, yeah, we could probably get to the station. No one’s out this late except that drunk guy down the street, usually.”

Goro looked down at Akira, who looked pained even in his drugged sleep, and said firmly, “Let’s try it, then. Please, help me.”

***

Together, they all managed to get the pajama-clad leader of the Thieves to the station, leaving Sae’s car parked across the street as they gathered outside of the darkened entrance. The last train had left over an hour ago, and the building was deserted as Goro pulled out his phone.

“Wait, you’re just going to do it now?” Morgana asked, and Goro glanced up at the two adults briefly before nodding.

“It will be beneficial in the future to not require translation,” he said with a faint smile. “And Sae-san is the sort who will appreciate real proof.”

“Real proof of what?” Sae asked, but Goro tapped the nav and let the station around them warp into the familiar setting of Mementos’ entrance.

Sojiro almost dropped Akira in shock, and Sae’s eyes had gone wide as she looked around. “This… This is the metaverse?” she asked incredulously. “So everything, that entire strange story, all of it was true?”

“It was,” Goro said, and both of them stared at him and his radically-different outfit in surprise.

Sojiro glanced down at Akira, confirming that his clothes had changed as well, looking perturbed. “This is definitely stranger than anything that Wakaba ever described…”

“It’s the unconsciousness of humanity! Of course it’s weird!” Morgana chimed in, and that seemed to be the last straw, as neither adult said anything, just stared at the strange cat in utter disbelief.

Goro waved to grab Sojiro’s attention, settling on the floor and letting Sojiro set Akira mostly on his lap so that Morgana could see if the healing spells were doing anything. Akira’s thief gear covered most of his bruises, but even the mask couldn’t erase the pained look on his face as he slept. Morgana just looked sad. “We’re probably not going to be able to fix everything, since he was injured in the real world, but it’ll help.”

“Anything is better than this,” Goro said, and Morgana nodded.

“I’ll start, then.” He summoned Zorro and cast dia, to see how Akira would react to the healing spell in his battered state. Sae and Sojiro continued to just stare as the green healing light glowed softly around Akira, and Goro gently took his mask off to get a better view of his face. The bruise on his cheekbone already looked less swollen, and a fainter one on his temple faded out entirely.

But Morgana stopped after only a few casts of dia, tapping a paw against his mouth. “I don’t think we should do any more. If we force his body to heal too fast, it could make things worse later.”

Goro tugged at Akira’s vest enough to check the bruise on his abdomen, which was still a painful-looking blue, but not as dark as it had been. “It’s fine, Mona. Thank you for suggesting this. I hadn’t even considered it.”

“That’s because you don’t have any healing spells,” Morgana said cheerfully, and Goro managed a small smile.

“Yeah.” He looked over, seeing the little girl that guarded Akira’s Velvet door watching them closely, and swallowed hard. “We should return to reality and get him to bed, though.”

Transferring back was easy enough, and the drive took no time at all, with almost no cars on the road this far past midnight. Sojiro brought them all to a nondescript apartment in a neighborhood a while away from the city center, fully-furnished with simple furniture and basic food.

“When you work for the PSIA as long as I did, you learn to keep a safe house handy,” Sojiro explained, tucking Akira into bed. “It’s under a fake name, so no one should be able to find a connection between it and the kid here.”

“I’m glad you’ve got this. He’s been beaten up enough,” Morgana said, hopping up onto the end of the bed.

Sojiro and Sae both blinked. “That is going to take quite a bit of getting used to,” Sae said at last. “I leave Kurusu-kun in your care, Sakura-san, Morgana. I’ve added my number to his phone, so please let me know when you all plan to meet.” She turned to Goro, who was trying to hide a yawn, and beckoned to him. “Come along, Akechi-kun. I’ll drive you home.”

“I should stay,” Goro began, but interrupted himself with another yawn.

“Kid, go home,” Sojiro ordered, in the parental tone he usually reserved for Akira and Futaba. He passed Goro a second apartment key and pointed towards the door. “You can come back tomorrow, but you don’t want to make anyone suspicious.”

Goro looked completely surprised to be faced with even that mild form of parenting, and nodded dumbly after a moment. “All right…” he agreed, reluctant, and as he followed Sae to the door he kept glancing back towards the bedroom worriedly.

Once they were gone, Sojiro brought in a chair from the kitchen table and a bottle of water and settled in beside Akira’s bed, watching him breathe shallowly. Morgana padded around on the bed, trying to figure out where to lie down, and eventually decided to curl up beside Akira’s head, where he could be woken immediately if anything went wrong.

“We can take turns,” he said vehemently to Sojiro, looking as serious as a cat could. “I can listen and make sure he’s okay, too!”

Sojiro nodded. “I’ll wake you up. Go on and sleep. All of you kids need to rest.” He folded his arms, watching the cat settle in and doze off, and sighed. He wasn’t going to wake him up. He wasn’t going to wake either of them, unless it seemed like Akira was getting worse. Otherwise, he needed rest. Getting him to stay in bed long enough to heal was going to be enough of a challenge without waking him up sooner than necessary.

God, these kids, though. They might actually be in over their heads.

***

Akihiko tried very hard to look as clueless as possible the next morning, when his captain grabbed him and ordered him to please help “the Kirijo woman”, who apparently had some sort of warrant from one of the Ministers of State to look into the inner workings of the police station on suspicion of meta-space activity. The captain thought he was pawning her off on Akihiko to deal with her weird investigation, but little did he know it was all according to their plan.

“What are we checking first, Kirijo-san?” Akihiko asked, his veneer of professionalism paper-thin overtop of his amusement.

Mitsuru shot him a withering look. “The first thing that we need to check is security footage. There are cameras in that hallway and in the interrogation room. They must have caught _something_ that can help us identify what happened.”

Akihiko beckoned her to follow. “No one’s allowed near the morgue. Apparently people have been circling like vultures trying to get a glimpse of the kid’s body, so the chief laid down a blanket ban,” he said. “People have been gossiping all morning about what kind of idiot would let him grab a gun. Saying we’re lucky he decided to kill himself instead of shooting the guards and escaping. There weren’t a lot of people here last night when it happened. He’d have gotten away for sure.”

“Not a lot of people…?” Mitsuru hummed thoughtfully. “That’s interesting.”

When they got to the security room, Mitsuru waved off any questions, and the low-level officers were so intimidated by her general presence that they didn’t try to interfere. Seeing that she had an escort helped, and she and Akihiko settled at a station in the corner and pulled up the footage from the prior day.

“Okay, that’s the hallway leading to the elevator,” Akihiko pointed out. Mitsuru frowned.

“So that’s the room down there, with the guard in front?”

“Yeah.” They watched the kid get dragged down the hall to the interrogation room, disappearing inside. Akihiko clicked through the cameras, but ended up with nothing but a blank screen. “Huh, that’s weird… This is early in the day, and there’s no footage from inside the room.”

“Do you think something happened then?” Mitsuru asked. “Why would the cameras be cut if something wasn’t going on?”

“That can’t be when he killed himself. Prosecutor Niijima went in after this.” Akihiko pulled the hallway feed back up and fast-forwarded until a man in a suit and three guards left the interrogation room. “There. There she goes.” They both watched the woman walk purposefully down the hall and be admitted to the interrogation room.

Akihiko hit fast-forward again, and hours of footage reeled away. Nothing changed in the hallway, and there was no footage from inside the interrogation room. Suddenly, though, right around seven that evening, the screen went black. Akihiko paused the tape and clicked through the footage, but it became clear that every camera in the station had gone black. When the cameras finally cut back on, it was over an hour later, and the building was almost completely empty. Akihiko pulled up the interrogation room camera, and the only thing it captured was the back of a janitor, leaving the room.

“So sometime during that hour, he stole a gun and killed himself, and they sent someone to clean the room,” Mitsuru said. “Do we know who was in the building?”

“It was the evening shift. There weren’t a lot of people after I left. I can probably work up a list, but Niijima-san, Akechi-kun, and the guard, at least…” Akihiko said.

“Someone knows what happened,” Mitsuru said firmly. “Work on that list, I’ll put together a plan, and we need to start talking to people no later than tomorrow. The cameras going out makes me worried that this wasn’t a suicide. And if someone killed him, we are faced with the question of who in the police murdered a suspect in custody.”

They exchanged a grim look, and then Mitsuru got up to call Naoto. This was looking worse and worse by the moment. What had the new kid gotten himself into?

***

Trying to sit through school was a nightmare.

All of them knew that Akira was okay, but Sojiro flatly refused to tell them where he was for at least another day. Even Futaba had been ordered not to ping his phone on threat of being banned from her computer except for Thief business. And Akira wasn’t _answering_ his phone, so they were stuck putting on a show of it just being a normal Monday.

No one at Shujin would stop talking about the news, though, except Ann’s own class. While outside it was a maelstrom of gossip and wildly-varying opinions on how evil the Thieves’ leader may or may not have been, Class 2-D was oddly somber for most of the day, barely even reacting to Kawakami’s announcement that Kurusu Akira had been called away for a family emergency. Ann did notice, though, that Kawakami seemed to be having a hard time getting the announcement out at all, and realized with a jolt that she might actually know what was going on...and was assuming the worst.

What Ann wasn’t expecting, though, was to be cornered at the end of the day by her entire class, the second that the teacher left the room once they were dismissed. One of the girls on the far side of the room closed the door, cutting them all off from the hallway, and half the class clustered around Ann’s desk, all looking grim. The only one who didn’t look upset (for the first time that day) was Mishima, who looked as confused as Ann felt.

“What happened?” Senaka Midori, the guy that normally sat behind Akira, asked.

“I don’t know what you…” Ann began nervously, but Senaka shook his head.

“He makes lockpicks in class. He carries around that cat. He’s always listening, watching, figuring out what’s going on. The leader of the Phantom Thieves commits suicide in police custody and he isn’t here? Really?” he said urgently. “Takamaki-chan, please…!”

Ann sighed and looked at the floor. “...how much have you figured out?” she asked at last.

One of the girls spoke up then. “It is him, isn’t it? And you, too. And that loud Sakamoto kid from the other class.”

“You stopped the mafia, and Niijima-senpai stopped looking for the Thieves after that.”

“None of us think you killed Okumura-san!”

“Kawakami-sensei has to know it’s him; she just ignores him making weird stuff in class.”

Ann fumbled awkwardly. “Guys, guys, hang on!” She set her bag down and sank back into her seat, trying to figure out what to say. “Akira’s… Things are in bad shape right now. And we… We appreciate all of your support. It means a lot that you still believe in us. But all of you need to chill, because the person that went after Akira is very powerful, and very dangerous. And obviously he doesn’t care who he has to kill. So please just let us do our thing, and try to keep your support to a low profile.” She looked around at her classmates, awkward and uncertain. “Please.”

One of the girls, someone Ann recognized from the volleyball team, said earnestly, “You got rid of Kamoshida. You saved us all. We could never turn on you after that.”

“Is… Is he really dead?” Mishima asked awkwardly. Ann looked at the floor, and Mishima stammered quickly, “N-Nevermind, I’m sorry.”

The classroom door slid open, and Ryuji poked his head in. “Yo, Ann, are we hittin’ the gym today?” he said, then froze. “Uh… Am I interrupting somethin’?”

“It’s fine, Ryuji,” Ann said, as all of her classmates turned to look at him. “We were just discussing a few things.” She grabbed her bag again. “Are we good, guys?”

They all nodded, varying murmurs of affirmation filling the room, and parted like the sea as Ann headed for the door. She grabbed Ryuji on the way by, and together they headed for the entrance. It was going to be _very_ interesting trying to explain to the others that her whole class knew who a third of the Phantom Thieves were.

...Makoto was going to flip.

***

One thing that Goro had noticed as he went about his day was that, based on everything he’d seen, the other Thieves were banned from seeing Akira. He’d seen both Ann and Ryuji in the group chat, lamenting that apparently Sojiro had asked them to wait an extra day before storming in to come visit. He apparently hadn’t even given them the address, much to everyone’s chagrin. Goro wisely kept it to himself that not only did he know where Akira was, he wasn’t banned.

The morning talk show he’d been invited on had wanted to hear all about how he felt about losing his opportunity to bring the Phantom Thief to proper justice. He’d been so tired, since he’d been up so late, that he barely remembered what he’d said. Something acceptable, obviously, because there hadn’t been any backlash from either the public or Shido. He’d gone to school as normal as well, and none of his classmates said anything to him about the suicide. And now, he was determined to go visit Akira, and make sure that he was doing all right.

After triple-checking to make sure that he hadn’t been followed, Goro let himself into the apartment. He barely got the door closed before Morgana came to investigate, and the cat looked relieved.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” he said, tail lashing back and forth.

“Is everything okay?” Goro asked, toeing off his shoes and setting his briefcase by the door.

Morgana nodded. “It’s just been really weird seeing him stuck in bed all day. He’ll be happy to see you, though.” He turned and padded back towards the bedroom, and Goro followed.

Akira’s phone was plugged in on the desk, out of reach of the bed. The very small TV on the dresser was on some sort of game show, but the volume was down very low. And Akira was still in bed, lying there with the blankets tucked up to his shoulders and a cup of water in easy reach on the nightstand. But he smiled when he saw Goro, saying softly, but brightly, “Hey, honey.”

Goro tried and failed to hide a smile. “Hello, dear,” he teased back, coming over to sit beside him on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a train,” Akira said bluntly. “Sojiro let me take pain meds before he left, but they’re only sort of working.”

“You poor thing.” Goro got up long enough to shrug off his coat, then stretched out on the bed beside him, being careful not to put any pressure on his injuries. “Do you remember anything?” he asked curiously, finding Akira’s hand beneath the blanket and lacing their fingers together.

Akira’s expression fell, and he weakly squeezed Goro’s hand, wincing as it aggravated his bruises. “I...not a lot. I remember them giving me at least three shots… And he made me sign something… I remember Niijima-san talking to me for a while. It’s all pretty fuzzy, though.” He shivered. “I remember being really scared. How did you get me out?”

Morgana joined them on the bed, and Goro scooted closer so that he could lean their foreheads together. “I carried you out in my arms, like the damsel in distress you were. You would have been proud,” he said, wanting Akira to smile. He was rewarded with the best grin Akira could manage with a bruised face, and added, “Sae-san drove us back to Yongen-Jaya, Doctor Takemi looked you over, and we brought you here.”

“I wish I’d been awake for you carrying me. Sounds romantic,” Akira said, and Morgana groaned.

“It probably would have been more romantic if you hadn’t been beaten half to death,” the cat complained. “We were worried!”

Akira weakly lifted a hand, and Morgana submitted to being petted with barely a grumble. “I’m okay,” he said softly. “I ache all over, but I’m okay.” He bumped his forehead against Goro’s. “Hey, can you get my phone? Sojiro wouldn’t give it before he left. He just plugged it in and showed Morgana how to call him.”

Reluctantly, Goro got out of bed and went to get the phone. “You have over twenty missed calls and messages,” he pointed out as he settled back beside Akira. “From many different people, although the rest of the Thieves seem to have gone quiet.”

“I can’t text right now,” Akira said, clumsily flexing his bruised hands for emphasis. “If I tell you a bunch of contacts, can you add them to a chat and then cut on the voice-to-text thing?”

Goro frowned. “Okay, but only for a little while. You need to rest.” He set things up as Akira gave instructions, then held the phone so they could both see it and Akira’s voice would register.

**Chat: Accomplice Squad - Akira, Mishima, Takemi, and 5 others**

> _[Akira - 5:34pm] Okay, first of all, I’m not dead._
> 
> _[Mishima - 5:34pm] Oh thank god!_
> 
> _[Akira - 5:34pm] Also, congrats, you’re all in a group chat now. It’s encrypted. No one will be able to get into it. This is basically everybody who knows who I am. I think the only people missing are my weapons dealer and my shooting instructor, my police contact, and...well. Yeah. Anyway._
> 
> _[Kawakami - 5:34pm] Weapons dealer???_
> 
> _[Akira - 5:35pm] Just listen for a minute._
> 
> _[Ohya - 5:35pm] Wait._
> 
> _[Ohya - 5:35pm] How do we know that you’re Kurusu-kun, and not someone fishing for information?_
> 
> _[Akira - 5:38pm] I’d already have your names from the phone. I wouldn’t need anything else to bring you in for questioning, if I was the police. And you saw me before. But do I, your informant, need to swear on Murakami-san’s memory that it’s me?_
> 
> _[Chihaya - 5:38pm] ...is that some kind of code?_
> 
> _[Ohya - 5:39pm] It’s really him._
> 
> _[Akira - 5:39pm]_ ⊂((^▽^))⊃

“What is a ‘nigi mitama’ and why does it autocorrect to that face?” Goro asked blankly.

Akira just smiled.

> _[Takemi - 5:40pm] Kurusu-kun, you should be RESTING._
> 
> _[Akira - 5:40pm] I’m still in bed! My boyfriend is doing the phone for me._
> 
> _[Akira - 5:43pm] But I wanted to tell you that I was okay. And that you all need to be careful. Don’t be too vocal about support for the thieves right now._
> 
> _[Hifumi - 5:44pm] Is something wrong?_
> 
> _[Akira - 5:45pm] Our last target is REALLY dangerous. He’s already tried to have me killed. I don’t want any of you to get hurt._
> 
> _[Yoshida - 5:45pm] That sounds like someone quite powerful._
> 
> _[Akira - 5:46pm] That’s why I’m warning you. I don’t know how far he’ll go, but murder is definitely something he’d consider. Just believe in us, like you always have, and everything will be okay._
> 
> _[Kawakami - 5:46pm] Don’t worry about us, Kurusu-kun. You have more support than you know. Just take care of yourself, and we can handle the rest._
> 
> _[Mishima - 5:47pm] I’ll keep the phan-site going strong! It’s got better encryption now, so I’m not afraid of anyone. Not even those people that tried to talk to me before._
> 
> _[Akira - 5:48pm] You guys are the best._

Akira sounded exhausted even after that amount of talking, so Goro sent a final message indicating that he needed his rest, and then put the phone away. He ran his fingers through Akira’s hair, and asked quietly, “Do you want something to eat? Can I get you something?”

Akira shook his head. “Maybe later. Can you just...stay here for now?” he asked, sounding vulnerable, and Goro nodded.

“Anything you want.”

Together, moving very carefully, they got Akira into a comfortable position on top of him that wouldn’t aggravate his bruises. Akira sighed very softly, draping like a limp blanket over Goro’s chest. “Thank you…”

With Morgana curled up beside them, watching over them both, Goro let himself drift, mildly thankful that Akira was still so tired. Keeping him in bed was going to be a nightmare when he started feeling more awake. 

Although, maybe agreeing to stay in bed with him would do the trick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is up later than I wanted because I was busy crying over how gorgeous anime!Akira is. Yeah. I regret nothing.
> 
> Wounds inflicted in Reality won’t heal completely with mental magic when they’re that severe, otherwise it could cause its own kind of problems. This has sort of come up at least once before in this series, but I don’t believe it’s ever been explicitly stated that that’s the rule I’m using.
> 
> Akira’s whole class is ride-or-die at this point. Everyone who knows is. Which means the Shadow Ops are going to have a hell of a time getting info out of anyone. I’m going to hold them off one way or another. XDDD
> 
> Next chapter: ...I don’t actually have many notes between now and the end of December. There’s a few things that need to happen, but other than that, there’s a lot of time before the ship deadline. Is there anything you guys are curious about? No promises if it’d be a spoiler, but if you want something other than the PT smothering Akira in love and care, feel free to suggest. Otherwise December’s going to fly by. XD


	45. November 22nd, 2016

It was surprisingly easy to pretend that nothing was wrong. Goro got up the next morning, attended his morning classes before bowing out at lunchtime, went to work, poured over the last few case files associated with the Phantom Thieves, and overall had a perfectly ordinary day.

His last task of the workday was to meet up with Sae to discuss closing the mental shutdown cases, now that the phantom thief was dead. Or rather, that was what the official explanation was. He’d promised to tell her the truth about his actions and his change of heart, on the condition that she continue helping the Thieves bring down Shido.

“So you’ve known about that world all this time…” Sae said incredulously. “I almost feel like I can’t be angry. I was so thoroughly outwitted, because all this time these cases were unsolvable for someone without access to the metaverse.”

“That was the intention,” Goro said. “In order to keep anything from being traceable back to Shido, he didn’t do any of his own dirty work. He has contacts everywhere. Even the director, wherever he’s disappeared to now.” He smiled faintly. “I visited the director’s Palace, just once. It was a circus.”

“A circus?” Sae asked curiously.

That one actually wasn’t an upsetting memory, and Goro nodded. “He surrounded himself with safety nets to protect himself from falling. It represented all the evidence that he forged to ensure he was always the victor. But there was a trapeze, and flaming hoops to jump through, and I petted a tiger. There was a version of you in there, and you were an animal-tamer. You...were kind to me before I had even truly met you, now that I consider it.”

“I hate to admit it, considering what I know about what these ‘Palaces’ represent...but that does sound incredible,” Sae admitted.

There was a knock on the office door, and she glanced over before calling, “Come in!” 

The door opened, and a young woman in a navy peacoat walked in, followed by a girl with blonde hair and what looked like odd headphones. The girl in the coat offered them both a friendly smile. “Niijima-san and...ah, Akechi-san, you’re here as well. My name is Shirogane Naoto, and this is my associate, Aigis. I was hoping that I could ask you both a few questions.”

Sae raised an eyebrow, but said politely, “It’s good to meet you, Shirogane-san, Aigis-san. What were you looking to ask about?”

“I’ve been doing a bit of investigation into the Phantom Thieves case on my own, and I’m trying to piece together the ending. And as you were both in the station that night, I was hoping…” Naoto paused. “Akechi-san? Are you all right?”

Sae turned to look at Goro, who seemed to realize he’d been staring and attempted to cover it up with a charming TV smile. “My apologies, Shirogane-san. It’s not every day that one of your role models walks into an office and asks to speak with you. I didn’t think I would ever get the opportunity to meet with my predecessor, considering you were working mostly out of Okina.” His clear admiration was genuine, for once.

Naoto smiled. “You’ve done quite well yourself, Akechi-san. I know how difficult it is to become a detective at that age.” She offered him a hand, which he shook quickly. “I hope we get an opportunity to speak again when all of this is over, but for now, can either of you tell me what happened that night?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much,” Sae said. “I spoke to the suspect and got a very long, confusing tale of his actions. I believe parts of it were muddled; I was told they gave him some sort of sedative because he wouldn’t stop fighting.” That was a lie, of course, but having Naoto poking around into the department’s corruption could tip off Shido that something was wrong. Better to go with a convincing white lie. “I wasn’t aware until the following day that the security cameras had cut out.”

“Was anyone watching the cameras?” Aigis asked, and Goro tilted his head curiously at how formal her speech seemed.

“Around that time of evening, most staff begin going home for the day. The camera footage is usually reviewed the next morning for any anomalies,” he said.

“I see,” Aigis replied.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then Naoto picked up smoothly, “What about you, Akechi-san? You were meant to speak to the suspect after Niijima-san, from what I understand. Did you see anything strange?”

Goro laughed lightly. “I didn’t even get near him. I was on my way down to the interrogation room when they told me that there was a problem and that I would have to leave. I’m rather upset that I didn’t get to question him, actually, after putting so much efforting into finding him. All I’ve gotten is Niijima-san’s description of his tale, which sounds too ridiculous to be true. Literally stealing hearts in another world? No wonder they’ve decided not to publicize any of his methods. And we can’t be sure of his motives, either, beyond his particular sense of ‘justice’. It’s a terrible situation all around, but at least it’s over now.”

“Indeed,” Naoto murmured. “I sympathize with how disappointing that must have been. It’s strange, though. We haven’t been able to track down the guard that was on duty, either. He’s just vanished.”

“Probably shame. I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one responsible for the suspect stealing my gun and destroying any chance of a proper trial,” Goro said. “He likely fears consequences, if not from his superiors then from the general public.”

“Your Special Investigations Director has disappeared as well,” Aigis pointed out, and Goro glanced at Sae, who sighed.

“He put in for a sudden leave of absence and left without another word,” she said. “Normally I wouldn’t be concerned, but considering everything that has been happening recently, I’m worried he may be the final victim in this whole thing.”

Naoto nodded. “Well, if there is anything that I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to contact me.” She pulled a card from her pocket with her name and a phone number scribbled on it, passing it to Sae. “This reminds me of a very strange case from several years ago, and I confess to being interested in what truth is revealed in the end.”

Goro took that as his cue to make a graceful exit. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Shirogane-san,” he said politely. “Unfortunately, I have another meeting that I need to get to. I hope we can speak more on this in the future.”

“The pleasure was mine, Akechi-san,” Naoto said, a hint of a smile on her face. “It seemed only fitting that the detective royalty should meet eventually.”

Goro excused himself with a polite bow and fled into the hallway, trying to pretend he didn’t feel Aigis’s odd eyes boring into his back. What on _earth?_ Why was Shirogane Naoto looking into the Phantom Thieves? And why _now?_ They were going to have to be careful moving forward. It would help no one if they got themselves pinned between Shido and the Detective Princess. If anyone found out Akira was still alive, the game would be over very quickly.

***

When Goro entered Shido’s office, he noticed the paper the man was holding immediately. He kept his expression carefully smooth as Shido looked up at him. “Akechi. Was there something you needed?”

“That’s the death certificate for the perpetrator, correct?” Goro asked. “Was there anything wrong with it?” After his meeting with Naoto, he was a bit paranoid. If Shido even so much as suspected that his plans had gone wrong, it would be a disaster. Akira was still too weak to be able to escape this time, and Goro could only do so much, even with help.

But thankfully, Shido shook his head. “No. Kurusu Akira… His name sounds familiar to me.”

Goro shrugged, gracefully casual as he could manage. There was no reason that Shido would know Akira. That didn’t even make sense. “He was merely a delinquent high school student. A nobody, in the end.” He smiled. “I just wanted to confirm with you, sir, that our plans leading up to the election haven’t changed?”

“Correct,” Shido said curtly, setting the death certificate aside and focusing on Goro. “Mental shutdowns will cease until after I have taken my place as prime minister, and we will only resort to psychotic breakdowns if anyone seems to be acting out against me.” He tapped his fingers against the desktop, and it sounded as sharp as rapid-fire bullets to Goro’s frayed nerves. “After the election, you will take care of the rest of the Thieves, and then we will see if anyone else needs to be...removed from power.”

There was something in his expression that didn’t sit right with Goro, but he pushed away the uncomfortable feeling and nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s truly hard to believe that our goal is so close to being accomplished.” It was a glorious feeling, to not exactly be lying. Just a few more weeks...

Shido smirked. “Indeed. I couldn’t have done it without you, Akechi.”

He absolutely hated the faint, proud feeling that he still got from being praised, but he merely inclined his head politely. “I’ve known all along that you were a great man destined for great things.”

“You’re still modest for someone with celebrity status,” Shido commented. “Regardless, I owe you a great debt. After I become Prime Minister, I’ll ensure you are well-rewarded. Anything that you want.”

“A full scholarship to college wouldn’t go amiss,” Goro said lightly. “I intend to settle down and focus on my studies. I’ll be quite content to be known as the detective that triumphed over monsters.”

“I suppose someone of your age wouldn’t have particularly twisted desires.”

Goro turned away from Shido, hiding the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. _Oh, I did. But I have my friends to thank for fixing them before I ended up as cruel and empty as you,_ he thought. Shido had no idea what was coming to him, and Goro’s voice was light but filled with promise as he said, “I am thinking about the future, though. It will be here before we know it.”

Once he’d been dismissed, Goro left the office content in the knowledge that Shido had no idea what they were planning. As long as Akira recovered quickly, the man’s Palace would be a smoking ruin by election night.

Speaking of his boyfriend, he had time before his meeting this evening to swing by and make sure Akira wasn’t doing anything ridiculous while unsupervised. He still wasn’t supposed to be out of bed, but it certainly wasn’t stopping him from trying. Makoto had apparently discovered him that morning trying to make curry while propped against the counter and read him the riot act. Thank goodness there were enough of them to check on him frequently, or who knew what he’d get into?

***

After making sure Akira wasn’t straining himself, mostly by bribing him to stay in bed by bringing him Big Bang Burger, Goro took the train out to Shinjuku, to the Crossroads bar, where one of Akira’s contacts apparently had important information for him that she didn’t want to relay over the phone even _with_ Futaba’s encryptions in place. So Goro was going in Akira’s place, with the promise that all of the information would make its way back to the rest of the Thieves.

When he entered the bar, he looked around curiously. It didn’t seem like anything special, just the usual neon and flash he would expect from a place in Shinjuku, and then the bartender got his attention.

“You seem a little young to be in here,” she commented, and Goro jumped.

“I, er… I’m meeting someone. Ohya Ichiko?” he said tentatively. Akira had told him about ‘Lala-chan’, but hadn’t mentioned that she seemed like the sort of person who could handily kick someone’s ass if necessary.

“She should be here in a bit,” Lala said casually. “Are you friends with the kid, then?”

“Akira? I...yes.” Goro took a seat at the bar, and watched with a hint of confusion as Lala glanced at him, then at the wine rack, then back at him, and smiled to herself.

“You must be that pretty boy he had a thing for,” she said knowingly, and Goro choked on air.

_”What?”_

“He came in here a few times, drinking my mojitos and talking about how he liked this boy so much, but he was afraid his friends wouldn’t approve,” Lala said, sounding amused. “I figured that once he turned up _happy_ it meant things had worked out.”

Goro had no idea what to say to that, but the mental image of Akira metaphorically drinking away his sorrows in a bar over _him_ of all people was overwhelming. Fortunately he was saved from responding by a dark-haired woman walking in, sitting down beside him at the bar and calling, “Lala-chan, can I get a vodka cranberry?”

Lala rolled her eyes and turned to make the requested drink, and Goro asked tentatively, “Are you Ohya-san?”

“That’s me!” she said brightly, winking at him. “Kurusu-kun said he was sending the Detective Prince, but I didn’t really believe him. But here you are! Wow. To think _you’d_ be working with him…”

Goro ignored how flustered the comment made him, trying to keep his focus. “He said you had something you wanted to tell him?”

Her expression went somber, and as Lala dropped off her drink and a glass of water for Goro, she sighed.

“I went to see my partner the other day,” she said. Seeing Goro’s confusion, she elaborated. “Her name’s Murakami Kayo. We used to work together, but she disappeared while working on a story a while back, after she was accused of murdering a bureaucrat, and I only located her again recently. She’s so skinny; she barely looks the same. She had one of those mental shutdowns.”

Goro dropped his glass. It didn’t break, thankfully, but it tipped over when it hit the bar, spilling water everywhere. He didn’t even notice Lala’s disapproving admonishments, too busy staring at Ohya in shock. “She had a mental shutdown? And...and she’s still alive?” He was wracking his brain, trying to remember. A journalist…

“She’s in bad shape. She can’t speak; apparently they found her wandering down the coast almost a year ago,” Ohya explained. “All we can do now is pray that she can recover. It’s not like she could come back yet, anyway. She’s still a suspect.”

His thoughts raced. It hadn’t been someone dealing with Shido directly, so it had to be farther out on the web. He could vaguely remember a journalist that had been getting too close to something… And then he remembered. He could see her face, clear as day, her shadow bright and enthusiastic with purpose, and he had--

“What did she find?” he asked quietly. The idea that someone could survive a mental shutdown was impossible, ridiculous, amazing. What were the circumstances that would allow someone to avoid death? What was the difference between what had happened to Isshiki Wakaba, or any of the other mental shutdown victims, and Murakami Kayo? It was a question for another day, once they had time to sit down and focus on the details instead of on their plan to bring down the most powerful man in Japan.

“The bureaucrat that was murdered was involved with a shady slush fund. She had a tiny camera built into her hairclip and captured a secret meeting, and now I’ve got that hairclip. And the other person at the meeting was one of Shido Masayoshi’s confidantes,” Ohya said confidently. “It’s pretty clear the confidante was blackmailing the bureaucrat and killed him for not paying up.”

“I can’t believe Shido would be involved with someone like that,” Lala commented. “He’s always seemed upstanding...for a politician.”

Goro failed to muffle a dismissive noise. “No one is ever what they appear to be, Lala-san,” he said, before turning his attention back to Ohya. “What will you do?”

“I’m going to write the article, obviously, as soon as I can track down corroborating evidence. I’ve got to clear my partner’s name,” she said. “I know it’ll be a long battle, but I have to. For both of us. And I want you to tell Kurusu-kun that our arrangement is done. This is going to be too dangerous, and he’s got enough to deal with.”

“You both are aware of Kurusu-kun’s identity, yes?” Goro asked. “Ohya-san, I know that you at least were part of the chat.”

“Yep. And he gave me permission to tell Lala-chan ages ago. What about it?”

Goro took a deep breath. “The Phantom Thieves’ next target is Shido Masayoshi. He will fall by the end of December, so please get your article ready to go, and keep it close to the vest. His every crime will come to light if we do our jobs properly.”

Lala frowned. “Kid… What did he do?”

Goro smiled wanly. “He’s the worst sort of man. A liar, a murderer, and the country is under his sway. And we will put a stop to that. But he is exceptionally dangerous, so say nothing of what you know until we can neutralize him. I don’t want anyone else to end up dead.”

Ohya looked very serious as she said, “Akechi-kun, tell Kurusu-kun that whatever happens, we’re on his side.”

“I will.”

_Akira is...so lucky. To have friends and confidantes like this,_ Goro thought. For the first time, though, it didn’t make him jealous. It made him happy to be a part of it.

“Thank you, Ohya-san, Lala-san. From me, and from him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **RANK UP**   
>  **CONFIDANTE SAE NIIJIMA**   
>  **CHARIOT RANK 6**
> 
> Akechi: “Mark my words one day, you will pay, you will pay, karma’s gonna come collect your [debts~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJkj3DgW8Y0)”  
>  Shido: “Why are you like this.”
> 
> You guys offered some excellent suggestions for December, and while I probably won’t hit them all, there’s a lot that I do want to touch on. Thanks!
> 
> God I do not write police procedurals. I have written one successful(?) murder mystery ever and spent most of that dodging the police parts. Please, Naoto, you guys, have mercy on my poor soul. X’D I’m laughing, though, because at least one of you said something like, “I want the Shadow Ops to succeed at something” and like...me too???? I feel terrible that I’ve had to nerf them so hard to not break the plot? I’ve finally learned why Atlus probably didn’t include them to start with because this is HARD??
> 
> They’re going to get closer and closer as December wears on, though, so hopefully the pacing makes sense.
> 
> Next chapter: The Shadow Operatives have some questions about Shujin’s currently-absent second-year. But is anyone going to want to talk to sketchy people asking around where they shouldn’t be? ;) Plus, Sojiro learns something he never would have dared to assume under normal circumstances.


	46. November 26th, 2016

Sojiro was, unfortunately, entirely too familiar with being woken up at ridiculous times of the morning. Taking care of Futaba meant dealing with nightmares and panic attacks as her mental state got worse. The abuse she’d suffered at her uncle’s hands had left scars that he had barely been equipped to deal with, but he’d learned, and now he considered himself fairly decent at it.

However, this was the first time that he could say that the reason he’d been woken up was a phone call from a cat.

Morgana had sounded terrified over the phone, and Sojiro had immediately left Futaba a note, grabbed a few things, and gotten in the car. In hindsight, it hadn’t been the smartest plan to leave the kid alone, but Akira had always seemed like he could handle anything. Maybe it was foolish to think that, though, after the two different breakdowns he’d had in front of Sojiro. 

It was easy to think of the leader of the Phantom Thieves and Kurusu Akira as being different entities sometimes, but he needed to remember that they were the same. Master thief or not, he was still a kid. And he was hurting.

When he got to the apartment, Morgana met him at the door, and he looked down at the cat worriedly. “Where is he?”

“Still in the bedroom. But he freaks out if I get near him. I don’t know what’s wrong!” Morgana said, and if he was human Sojiro would say he sounded like he was about to cry. Sojiro followed him back towards the bedroom, where he found Akira wedged back into the corner between the dresser and the wall.

“Kid,” he said, dropping down to Akira’s level, “what happened?”

Akira flinched, eyes screwed tightly shut. He was shaking, and Sojiro could see the faint sheen of sweat on his face and how shallow his breathing was. “No--” he managed, forcing the word out.

Sojiro didn’t move. “You’re home. You’re safe. I promise.” He was barely aware of Morgana moving back to watch from the bed, focusing intently on his kid.

“Hurts…” Akira gritted out, and Sojiro nodded.

“I know. I know it hurts, and it’s even worse because you’re scared right now. But it’ll pass, Akira.” He waited until Akira opened his eyes, just a tiny sliver of gunmetal visible beneath his lashes, and then reached out very slowly and set a hand on Akira’s knee. “Hey, come here, okay? You’ll be all right.”

Slowly, like he was crawling through molasses, Akira crept out of the corner, and Sojiro bundled him into the blanket he’d brought and dragged him in close. It was thicker than any of the blankets in the apartment, and it was usually on the top shelf of the pantry, near the cans of coffee beans, so it smelled more like what Akira would associate as home. At least, Sojiro hoped it did. Akira seemed to shrink into it, shuddering harshly before burying himself against Sojiro’s shoulder so they couldn’t see him cry.

“Did he have a nightmare?” Sojiro asked, and Morgana kneaded anxiously at the bedsheets.

“He was thrashing around, and I tried to wake him up because I didn’t want him to hurt his ribs. But when he woke up, he freaked out and fell out of bed and ended up in the corner,” the cat said unhappily. “I didn’t know what to do except call you; I was scared he was gonna hyperventilate or something!”

“You did the right thing,” Sojiro said, and together they sat there with the blanket-wrapped thief, until his breathing evened out and his shaking had subsided to a tremble.

Akira mumbled something, muffled against his shoulder, and Sojiro frowned. “Hm?”

“You didn’t have to come,” Akira said quietly. His face was a mess of tears and red, blotchy patches from crying, and combined with his bruises he looked awful. “I’d...I’d have been okay. I’d have gotten over it eventually.”

Sojiro held him tighter, trying to still be mindful of his ribs, his chin resting in Akira’s hair. “No one should have to ‘get over’ a panic attack by themselves. That’s ridiculous.”

“But you had to drive all the way here,” Akira protested weakly. “I woke you up; it’s not even six in the morning… And it’s Saturday...”

“Akira, I shouldn’t have left you here by yourself in the first place. I should have known this would happen,” Sojiro said plainly. “You’re dealing with enough shit already. Let me do what I can.”

Akira was quiet for a long time, reaching out for Morgana and pulling the cat to his chest. Morgana didn’t even complain, just purred comfortingly, and finally Akira murmured tiredly, “Thanks, Dad.”

Sojiro stared down at him. “Er…?” It had taken long enough to get Futaba to start referring to him like that, and he had actually adopted her. He’d never dreamed Akira would ever reach that point, no matter how much the kid liked him and no matter how much Sojiro considered him just another part of the family. “Is that you sleep-talking, or do you know what you said?”

“I know what I said,” and a slight edge of viciousness crept into Akira’s voice, though it was mostly tempered by how exhausted he sounded. “You’ve done more than they did…”

“You’re just as important to me as Futaba,” Sojiro said bluntly. He wasn’t usually the sort to be so direct, which was part of what had gotten him in trouble with Futaba, but he knew Akira needed it. “And I think when all of this is over, I need to have a talk with your parents.”

Akira mumbled something inaudible, curling up a little more as he dozed off. Morgana looked up at Sojiro, and asked sadly, “Does he really have to go back to his parents? He never seems happy when he brings them up.”

Sojiro sighed. “If they want him to come home, there’s not much we can do. He’s a minor, and they’re his legal guardians. But… I certainly wouldn’t tell him that he couldn’t stay here.”

He didn’t even try to move Akira, just stayed seated against the wall, listening to him breathe. He didn’t know what kind of nightmare it had been, but he could guess. All that mattered in the end was that Akira felt safe. That was all.

***

It was almost a guarantee at this point that the entire class knew that Kurusu Akira being called home was a lie, and Kawakami was completely confused on how to handle that. Mishima, she knew for sure, because he had been part of that group chat of ‘accomplices’, but everyone else…

She’d basically settled on not bringing it up. Akira had indicated that things were going to be very dangerous for a while, and she certainly wasn’t going to put a single student in the line of fire if she didn’t have to. So she let them pass notes and whisper amongst themselves without question, and after school ended she watched them all leave, hanging back at her desk and sighing with worry. Wherever he was, she hoped Akira was okay.

She was looking over a stack of papers she had to grade when there was a tap on the doorframe, and when she looked up, there were two young women standing there. The brunette waved sheepishly. “Kawakami-san, may we speak to you for a few minutes?”

“Yes…?” Kawakami said tentatively. Both of them stepped into the room, the brunette with a cheerful smile. “May I ask what this is about?”

“My name is Aragaki Hamuko, and this is Yamagishi Fuuka. We just had a couple of questions,” Hamuko said.

Kawakami wasn’t sure why, but something about this was making her uncomfortable. Why would they just come into the school like this? “That didn’t actually answer my question,” she pointed out, leaning a hand on her hip. “I have a lot of things to do this afternoon; exams are coming up at the end of December and there are lesson plans to do.”

“We just need a few minutes of your time,” Fuuka said quietly. “There is a student currently absent from your class, isn’t there? Kurusu Akira. May we ask what happened to him?”

Now she was _definitely_ on edge. “Kurusu-kun has returned home to deal with a family emergency. That’s all that I was told. Considering everything that happened to him this year, I’ve tried not to speculate or allow my students to spread rumors.”

Hamuko looked confused. “Everything that happened? Was Kurusu-kun bullied?”

“He dealt with vicious rumors at the beginning of the year that he was a violent delinquent, but he never caused any problems while he was in my class. He was a bright kid.” Kawakami’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a reason that you are so interested in him? You could have learned about his absence from the school records.”

“We’re doing a minor personal investigation into the Phantom Thieves, and we had reason to believe that he was involved,” Hamuko said bluntly, and only years of not reacting to students’ behavior allowed Kawakami to keep herself from looking too worried.

Instead, she said, with genuine surprise, “Kurusu-kun? Really? He certainly never gave that impression…” Which was a bare-faced lie, but they didn’t need to know that. Now she was wondering how they’d drawn a link between the Phantom Thieves and the absence of a random student at the school.

“I know it sounds like a stretch, but we’re trying to piece things together as best we can,” Hamuko began, but then all three of them looked over at a tentative knock on the door.

“Sensei?” Mishima asked, and Kawakami didn’t miss the way his eyes jumped to Hamuko and then back to her. “Are we still okay to do that tutoring session this afternoon? I’m still having trouble with the compound verbs.”

Kawakami nodded, taking the escape route that was being offered immediately. Thank goodness Mishima seemed to realize something was wrong. “Of course, Mishima-kun.” She nodded politely to Hamuko and Fuuka. “My apologies, but as you can see I have a student I was going to work with this afternoon. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be of more help.”

“We apologize for intruding,” Fuuka said. “Thank you for taking even that little bit of time to speak to us.” The two girls nodded to Mishima as well and left, already talking in low voices to each other, and Mishima stepped fully into the classroom and shut the door.

“Why were they here?” he asked.

“They were asking questions about Kurusu-kun. I think they’ve pieced together that he’s one of the Thieves,” Kawakami said. “I don’t know _how_ , but that is definitely what they were implying. I don’t think they realize he’s still alive, though.”

“That one girl, Aragaki-san, she asked me a bunch of questions about the Thieves before he was arrested,” Mishima said. “That’s why when I saw them talking to you, I butted in. I figured they were asking you, too. I haven’t figured out who they work for, though. I wonder if this is what Kurusu meant when he said someone powerful was after him. Maybe they work for that person?”

“That means he was right. We need to be very careful,” Kawakami said. “I really hope he knows what he’s doing…”

***

“I guess it makes sense that people who knew him would be upset about him being accused of being a Phantom Thief, but jeeze, it’s still frustrating that everyone’s so tight-lipped,” Hamuko complained, as she and Fuuka waited for the subway at the Aoyama-Itchome station. “I wonder if his teacher knows he’s dead.”

“Technically we still don’t have proof that it’s Kurusu-kun, but the likelihood of it being a Shujin student combined with his abrupt absence is convincing,” Fuuka replied. “His school picture also lines up with the picture Yu-kun got at the school festival, which ties him to Okumura-chan, and that means he was also the one from that clip of the airsoft shop.”

Hamuko slung an arm around her. “I still can’t believe you managed to narrow it down. That many student records to go through… Thank goodness you wrote a program for it, or we’d have been here for weeks.”

They got on the train, finding a couple of empty seats away from other people, and Fuuka continued quietly, “That leaves the question, though, of whether Okumura-chan knew his identity and asked him directly for a change of heart, or whether he was simply a school acquaintance that learned of her problems. His teacher didn’t seem aware…”

“I think Mishima-kun knew,” Hamuko said. “He probably knows Kurusu-kun is dead. He’s keeping it together pretty well, though, which is probably a good thing. I don’t think anyone would want to publicly broadcast any connections they might have, since the police didn’t report his name.”

“Naoto-kun said that Akechi-san and Niijima-san said that they didn’t know what happened at the precinct that night. But combined with the guard’s disappearance and the cameras being down, that makes at least one of them suspicious. Akechi-san has spoken out publicly about how he was instrumental in getting the leader of the Thieves arrested and that he’s disheartened that he didn’t get to question him, but Naoto-kun got the impression that he’s putting on a brave face more than anything, after meeting him in person.” Fuuka pulled out her phone, adding a few things to the memo she was keeping. “So our list of people who are currently suspicious includes Mishima-kun, Akechi-san, Niijima-san, and Okumura-chan.”

Hamuko hummed. “Niijima-san seemed nice enough, based on what Naoto-kun said, but could she have done something? She was still there when the cameras went out, and could have left after...well. After all, there’s no guarantee someone’s a nice as they seem.”

Fuuka nodded. “It’s a possibility, but for now we need to focus on Kurusu-kun’s immediate contacts. Other than his teacher, the only other option is his guardian, since there’s no way to pinpoint who exactly his friends were.”

“Mitsuru-senpai did say that Sakura-san was involved with meta-space research once. That’s...kind of a big coincidence that Kurusu-kun was living with him and helping at his cafe,” Hamuko admitted. “He has to know _something_.”

When they got off the train in Yongen-Jaya, it took a few minutes to locate Cafe Leblanc, Sakura Sojiro’s restaurant. When they arrived, there weren’t any other customers, and an older man that they assumed was Sojiro leaned out of the kitchen.

“Be right with you,” he called. “Feel free to have a look at the menu board.”

They took seats at the counter, and when he came out of the back, drying his hands on a towel, they both ordered caramel lattes.

“Do you have any other staff?” Hamuko asked after a moment, candid and smiling, and Fuuka practically wilted at her bluntness. “A friend of mine said you had a cute part-timer working here.”

Something dark flickered across Sojiro’s expression. “He’s gone home for a while. Family emergency. I’m not sure when he’ll be back, unfortunately.” He set the milk to steam, raising an eyebrow at them. “I’m not nice enough to look at?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Hamuko said quickly. “And I’ve heard the coffee is incredible, too!” She knew absolutely nothing about this cafe, but he didn’t need to know that.

The man smiled. “I’m Sakura Sojiro. The regulars here call me ‘Boss’. Always glad to hear that there’s good word going around about my shop.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir. I’m Aragaki Hamuko,” she replied, but both she and Fuuka hesitated as he abruptly turned away to check on the milk.

“Did you make a special trip out today?” he asked, not turning back to face them as he made their lattes.

Hamuko shrugged, even though he couldn’t see her. “The coffee came highly recommended, and we were like two stops away. It seemed worth the trip.” She shared a confused glance with Fuuka, and then both of them jumped as two to-go cups were placed on the counter in front of them. “Oh, we were going to drink it he--” But she stopped mid-word at the look on his face. “Ah, sir, I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

Sojiro’s gaze was cold. “You can take your coffee to go, both of you. And tell Kirijo-san to keep her Shadow Operatives out of my cafe. I’m assuming you already know what happened, so it’s a bit tasteless to come poking around for information while people are in mourning.”

Fuuka had gone pale. “We weren’t…” she began, but Sojiro shook his head.

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to see any of you poking around here again, or I will go to Kirijo-san myself and ask what she thinks she’s doing bothering people when they’re trying to recover from that kind of news.” Sojiro fixed them with a glare, and Fuuka grabbed her coffee, tugging at Hamuko’s sleeve. Hamuko looked like she wanted to say something else, but she was forced to grab her coffee as Fuuka bodily dragged her from the cafe, tossing money on the counter in their wake.

Once they were almost back to the station, Hamuko said flatly, “Well, we at least know for sure that it’s Kurusu-kun.”

“What does he have against Mitsuru-san, I wonder?” Fuuka mused.

“I don’t know, but I’m _really_ not used to being called out like that.” Hamuko took a sip of her coffee and made a face. “Oh, that’s just cruel. We’re banned, and this is the best latte I’ve ever tasted.”

“We’ll just have to tell Mitsuru-san that if we’re going to ever learn what really happened, she needs to be on better terms with Sakura-san,” Fuuka said. “For the sake of your coffee as well.”

Whatever bad blood was between those two, she had a feeling that there would be no true answers as long as it existed. But at least they were a little closer than they had been that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sojiro would probably have been less blunt if he hadn't spent the morning being hit in the face with how badly all of this has affected Akira. He's not letting the Shadow Ops near his kids when he doesn't know their motivations, and with Shido as much of a threat as he is, he's not willing to hear them out right now, either.
> 
> The Shadow Operatives continue to creep closer and closer to an answer. Eventually, though, they're going to learn everything, and when that day comes, no one is going to be happy with the result.
> 
> ...Iwai was supposed to show up this chapter and then he didn't. Maybe later.
> 
> Also, going to yell for a second, because a kind commentor actually made a [tropes page](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/HoursVerse) for this series and I haven't stopped internally screaming yet. AAAA. You guys are too kind to me.
> 
> Next chapter: We're leaving Tokyo for a field trip! To visit some other people, one of whom is sort of on a field trip! _But is he going to like what he finds?_


	47. December 7th, 2016

**Chat: Blue Family - Minato, Ryoji, Yu, and 5 others**

> _[Ryoji - 2:35pm] Hey. Any updates from the SO front?_
> 
> _[Yu - 2:37pm] Nothing substantial. We’ve been trying to keep an eye on everyone involved._
> 
> _[Yu - 2:38pm] Okumura-chan turned down Mitsuru’s invitation to dinner, but she’s busy dealing with restructuring her company, so not too suspicious._
> 
> _[Yu - 2:38pm] Akechi-kun seemed a little suspicious, but we should have known better than to try to tail a celebrity._
> 
> _[Yu - 2:39pm] He’s too used to being followed by fans. We’ve had to abort a lot._
> 
> _[Ryoji - 2:40pm] omg. This kid is getting the better of the super-capable Shadow Ops?_
> 
> _[Yu - 2:41pm] You try stalking a celebrity and see how that goes for you._
> 
> _[Marie - 2:42pm] You guys won’t learn anything if he gets arrested, Ryo._
> 
> _[Marie - 2:42pm] Don’t you have work or something?_
> 
> _[Ryoji - 2:42pm] Day off. Hanging out with Liz and Theo. Margaret’s at work and Minato’s at the training building._
> 
> _[Yu - 2:44pm] Mementos again?_
> 
> _[Ryoji - 2:44pm] Yeah. I wish I could help but… I’m just here._
> 
> _[Ryoji - 2:44pm] Hang on, it’s my turn._

Ryoji set the phone aside, taking the controller Elizabeth offered. “Theodore beat you? Really? I missed the last course; what happened?” They were taking the afternoon to play Luigi Kart while Minato was out, mostly because it was impossible to worry too much when you were busy trying not to drive off the side of the road.

“Theo picked Spectrum Highway. He knows everyone hates that level!” Elizabeth complained. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Most of the household preferred courses with less chance of falling off the edge at the slightest mishap. But...

“Hey, I like that level,” Ryoji countered. “It’s not our fault you don’t do well without guardrails.”

“We each got to pick two, and that was one of my two,” Theodore added, unable to hide a smile. “Better luck next time, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth pouted, but switched seats with Ryoji, and he nudged Theodore as they went back into the character select. Despite all of the worry that had come with being cut off from the Velvet Room, he had to admit that there were a few positive things that had come of it. Theodore had gained self-confidence in leaps and bounds, and Margaret and Elizabeth picked on him far less often, and less severely. Elizabeth had mellowed out some, Margaret was less strict… It was all things that wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t been forced to live in reality for this long.

“Hey, when Ken-kun and Minato get home, we’ll have enough people for a tournament,” he said brightly. “The winner can play Elizabeth, since she usually kicks all our asses.”

“I would find starting out as reigning champion acceptable,” Elizabeth said, sprawling on the couch, and Ryoji turned his attention back to the TV.

“I guess we’d better practice, then.”

***

_It had taken a long time to even reach Mementos. Tracking a Tokyo-specific distortion through the Sea of Souls enough to actually enter it was an effort that had left them exhausted more than once. And every time they returned, it was still tiring._

_There was one thing that they had yet to do in the exploration of the seemingly-endless subway. They had been searching for weeks, but the tunnels seemed to be all the same, stretching onwards in a maze that seemed to never cease going downwards. There was always another floor, another escalator leading down into the depths. The floors were never laid out the same twice, and it was exhausting. They were constantly reminded of Tartarus’s endless instability, and the chances of running into the Phantom Thieves like this were almost nothing. And so now it was time to attempt that last option._

_”Should we?”_

I think so.

_They had learned, after many tries, to share his eyes the way they shared in reality. Were they Orpheus? Were they Minato? It was hard to say. The lines blurred in the darkness, and the golden-eyed boy crossed the tracks, to stand among the shadows that waited on the platform._

_It didn’t take long for a train to arrive._

_Shadows shuffled into the cars, and they walked among them, blending in among people that seemed lifeless and eager simultaneously. It was the look of those waiting to get home so that they could throw themselves into bed and finally relax. They had been reluctant to get on the train, not liking to be out of control of their destination, but now it seemed the only recourse left._

_The train took off at blinding speeds, roaring down the tunnels with singular purpose. They held tight to one of the poles, watching platforms fly by, watching the walls change as they went deeper and deeper, deeper than they’d ever managed before, and the veins that lined the walls grew more prominent, pulsing with eerie red light. And at the end, when the train stopped, they were confronted with the vaulted hall of a station, with a massive door to what lay beyond._

_They approached the door, letting the crowd dictate their momentum, but when they reached the threshold they stopped. Shadows continued to pass them, walking deeper into what lay past the door, but they hovered on the edge, unnerved. Something was wrong, truly wrong, beyond this point. While the shadows seemed eager enough, everything gave off a forbidding aura, and they knew as one that if they were to go past this door, they would not be able to return. They took a step back, looking around nervously at the veined walls, and then_ Minato’s eyes opened, and he took a deep breath, taking in the familiar sight of the training room around him.

On instinct, he called for Orpheus, and what he got was the golden-eyed version of himself materializing across from him. It was only because Minato had yanked them back so abruptly; he hadn’t had a chance to settle back to his normal appearance, but he reached out regardless, and Minato met him halfway and linked their fingers.

_I am thou,_ his shadow murmured.

Minato nodded. “Thou art I,” he replied, equally quiet. Their hands were trembling, just a bit, and Minato pulled back so that Orpheus could resume his usual shape. “There’s something terrible down there,” he said.

His persona towered over his seated form, but it was a protective sort of towering, and Orpheus said, _We cannot approach that place as a shadow. It gives off the aura of a prison. If I am separated from you, we do not know what will happen._

“Yeah. I need to tell Ryoji what we found, and then the others…” Minato pushed himself to his feet, nodding at the tall figure. Orpheus looked at him fondly and then dissipated, and he headed for the door, wondering what this meant. They’d always known something was wrong with Mementos, but if the core of the distortion was swallowing up people’s shadows…

It couldn’t be, though. Otherwise Tokyo would be plagued with Apathy Syndrome. So the shadows weren’t being consumed, just...locked away. But why?

***

He found Ryoji in their room, sprawled on the bed with the phone. Yu was apparently on speakerphone, because Minato could hear him lamenting, _“We should have been able to do something more, though.”_

“Now you know how I felt when we thought Nanako had died,” Minato said bluntly, flopping down beside his fiancé. “Hello, Yu.”

_“Minato!”_ Yu’s voice perked up. _“Did you find anything?”_

“Orpheus got on a train,” Minato said. “We rode all the way to the bottom.”

“Wasn’t that dangerous?” Ryoji sat up to look him over with worried eyes, and Minato pulled him down to press a reassuring kiss to his cheek.

“Probably, but we weren’t learning anything just poking around the tunnels. There’s a station at the bottom where all the shadows seem to be going, and a giant door… Not as big as ours,” he said quickly, seeing what Ryoji was about to ask, “but still giant.”

Ryoji tilted his head, puzzled. “What was in there?”

“We don’t know.” Minato sighed heavily. “It felt like a prison. I don’t know how to explain it, but if I’d let my shadow go across the threshold, I somehow knew that we wouldn’t be able to come back. Something is drawing the shadows of Tokyo down there, though, and that worries me. Even if it’s only something with a localized influence, like Mikuratana-no-Kami, if it’s left for too long it could easily go out of control.” He frowned. “I’m worried it already has, and if we can’t get to meta-space directly to deal with it, and with the Phantom Thieves potentially unaware that there’s danger at all…”

_“What about Nanjo-san’s project?”_ Yu asked. _“He was getting close to it being completed, right?”_

Minato pressed his palms over his eyes, trying to keep the frustration from bleeding into his voice. “It’s done. It’s finally done, and it’s _not working_. Everything built to the blueprints, everything reconstructed as it should be and better, more compact, better power sources, everything, and every time they cut it on it _doesn’t do anything_. The lab staff is agitated; they’re going through everything bit by bit, but I feel like we’re running out of time, and that was our last hope. We’ve been cut off from every direction, and now our new Wild Card is dead, too. We’ve failed so badly that I don’t even know what to say.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Yu said, very softly, _“I wish I had known. I didn’t realize until recently, but I bumped into him, all the way back at the start. I wasn’t paying enough attention to notice what he was, and I should have. Maybe I could have prevented all of this.”_

“You can’t think like that,” Ryoji said. “We met him too, ages ago. He was a little tiny thing in Tokyo Tower. But what could any of us have done to have stopped this outcome?” He laid back down, finally, using Minato’s stomach as a pillow. If there was one thing he knew, it was that death could be cruel, and unfair, even when that wasn’t the intention. “If we could go back in time and save him, I know we all would. It hurts to imagine that little kid growing up and...well.”

“All we can do now is try to avenge him,” Minato said firmly. “We can’t give up hope now.”

***

Many, many miles away, in an undisclosed neighborhood of Tokyo, Akira and Morgana sneezed simultaneously.

Ryuji looked up from the TV curiously. “Someone must be talking about you guys,” he said, grinning. “I bet it’s Ann and Goro. They’re gossips, both of ‘em.”

“Lady Ann would have only nice things to say about me,” Morgana said, preening.

Akira shrugged. “Goro would...say something nice, but also call me an idiot.” He got up from the bed, coming over to tap Ryuji’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s my turn. You said you’d give it back after the boss fight.”

“Sorry, sorry, I got distracted by the cutscene.” Ryuji hopped up from the chair so they could switch. “Futaba was right. I don’t really get all this stuff about monsters that eat hearts, but this game’s pretty good. Just don’t tell her I said that.”

“Of course not.” Akira was too grateful for that. He and Ryuji had been working their way through _Keys to the Kingdom_ for a week now, and it was engrossing enough that he could almost forget that he was slowly going stir-crazy. Plus, Futaba was finally getting her wish for him to play a 'real game'. But Takemi had given him a checkup and said that he was mostly cleared, so he’d hopefully be able to go out soon. He was still under strict orders to ‘not steal anything’ for a little longer, though. “Come on, I think the next world might be the last one. We haven’t seen that weird castle from the back of the game case yet.”

He unpaused the game, flexing his hands and settling in. As much as it irritated him, all he could do now was recover, so that they could finally go after Shido.

And then the whole world would see that the Phantom Thieves couldn’t be knocked down that easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's December at last, and what is this? A chapter that’s gone back to being the size they were pre-Theatre? What? What’s happening?
> 
> I had a little less time to write this time, so please take this and forgive me for using the chat conversation to avoid writing a full scene instead. X’D We’re coming up on some _important stuff_ though. At very high speeds. Once we hit the ship nothing is slowing down until everything is over.
> 
> Next chapter: There’s one thing left that the Phantom Thieves don’t know. And also, Ryuji is correct. They are terrible gossips. XD


	48. December 13th, 2016

The Phantom Thieves were a wildly varied group with an impressive array of talents, and while usually it was parkour and flashy fighting skills that took center stage, the others were equally important in their own ways.

“Okay, but what, exactly, did you say to Goro to make him that flustered?” Ann asked eagerly, dabbing concealer on the remnants of the bruise on his cheek. Off to one side, Yusuke was sitting beside Ann’s makeup case, looking curiously through the contents.

“I was trying to make curry for us for dinner, and he was fussing at me to go lie down, and I told him no. So he asks me,” Akira said, waving one hand animatedly, “he asks me if he has to tie me to the bed to get me to rest. So I said, ‘kinky’.”

“Of course you did,” Ann sighed, exasperatedly fond. “Stop moving; I’m going to get concealer in your eye.”

“But do you know what he said to me?” Akira said plaintively, though he did stop moving. “He said, _‘You are the greatest mistake of my life.’_ And when I asked, he said that included murdering people!”

“He has a very unique sense of humor,” Yusuke said, examining one of Ann’s makeup brushes, and Akira groaned loudly. Ann just shook her head, continuing to carefully blend concealer down Akira’s cheeks and neck. His bruises were lighter, but they still splashed across his skin in a mix of blues, greens, and yellows. Yusuke had already compared them to watercolor, and Akira was pretty sure there would be a painting or something showing that off in a few weeks. But he couldn’t go out in public like that without earning some strange looks, and that was the last thing he needed right now. He was just glad his friends were willing to help. Morgana was out with Haru for the day, taking a break from looking after him, and he was finally getting to go out of his hiding place.

Ann dusted powder on his face, contouring and setting, and sat back to look at him. “Perfect!” she declared. “You can’t tell you’re bruised at all.”

“Am I good, then?” Akira asked. He was already dressed, wearing some of Ryuji’s casual clothes and itching to go already.

“Nope!” Ann leaned over, retrieving a flat iron from where it had been plugged in on the desk. “I really hate to do this, but we don’t want anyone to recognize you.”

“Including my own boyfriend?” Akira leaned back from the hair implement, hands rising protectively to his head. “You love my fluffy hair!”

“I love _you_ more, and I don’t want you getting snatched up by someone gunning for thirty million yen,” Ann countered. She scooted towards him, but caught a flash of actual fear in his eyes for a split-second and lowered the iron. “Hey, if you don’t want to, it’s okay, but your hair will go right back to normal if you wash it. I promise.” Goro had explained, not in many words, but they all knew that there was a tiny part of their leader that wasn’t quite okay.

Akira took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. “...all right. Just don’t burn my hair,” he teased, flashing a smile, and Ann nodded. She did his hair a section at a time, smoothing it out into something tame and plain. While she worked, Akira idly watched Yusuke, who apparently carried around a miniature watercolor palette in his pocket or something and was hunched over a sketchbook.

By the time both of them were done and Ann held up a mirror, Akira barely recognized himself. She’d contoured his face to make his features seem sharper, and combined with the hair he was certain no stranger would know who he was. And Yusuke had watercolored in a rough sketch, just a profile of a person with color bleeding down their cheeks.

“Proof of concept,” Yusuke said. “I think there is promise in the idea of expressing pain in such a visual way.”

“Glad to be of help,” Akira said dryly. He let Ann comb his hair back from his face and hairspray it, then went to get his shoes, leaving his glasses on the nightstand. “Thanks, both of you. It’s been terrible being cooped up here.”

“Anytime,” Ann said brightly. “Tell Goro hi; we’re taking Futaba to Ueno to go to that big toy store, or we’d totally go hang out in Akihabara with you.”

Akira grinned. “Tell Futaba that her love for ‘Feather Toucan’ might be a little premature when the show hasn’t even premiered the character yet.”

“Futaba will not change her mind. You know this,” Yusuke said, rolling his eyes, and Akira just laughed.

“Yeah, but it’d be funny anyway.”

***

He found Goro waiting outside the train station and grinned to himself as his boyfriend seemed completely oblivious to his approach. Goro was looking around, but didn’t seem to register that Akira was literally ten feet from him, so Akira did the responsible thing and just walked up and grabbed his hand.

“Excuse m--” Goro started, flustered, then looked closer and blinked, saying more quietly, “Akira, what on _earth?_ ”

Akira laughed. “Sorry, I couldn’t pass that up. What were you looking for?”

“I’ve felt very much like I’m being followed the past couple weeks, but it’s probably just paranoia,” Goro admitted, but he was clearly distracted, his eyes roaming over Akira’s face. “Ann really is quite a wonder with makeup, isn’t she? Did she _straighten your hair?_ ”

“Yep. My poor hair,” Akira said with over-exaggerated mournfulness. “But she had a point. I really don’t want anyone to recognize me.”

“They won’t.” Goro beckoned him to follow and headed for the train station. He had his own hair up in a ponytail, and was wearing one of Akira’s hoodies over a pair of fitted jeans. “Hopefully no one will recognize me either.”

Akira stuck his hands in his pockets, saying in a low voice, “It’s kind of lucky we couldn’t be overly affectionate in public before, or this would be _really_ hard. You look good in those jeans.” He laughed, dodging as Goro swatted at him, and together they boarded the train to Akihabara.

He’d picked a day Shinya wasn’t there. While his favorite shooting instructor was aware that he was alive, Akira didn’t want him to have to deal with pretending more than necessary. So when Akira and Goro entered the arcade, it was blissfully quiet, without the usual crowd watching the King play, and Akira bounced with excitement when he saw the crane machine.

“They put the Jack Frosts back!” he said happily, already heading for it.

Goro trailed after him, looking confused. “You have a Jack Frost already, though. It’s on your desk.”

“I need another one,” Akira said. “Remember? I told you ages ago that I was going to get two because they were a gift.” He was already digging through his pocket for yen for the token machine. “They replaced it with those stupid Lexy things no one likes, and then that weird sheep guy. I’ve been waiting for months for them to do Jack Frost again.”

“Ah, I remember now,” Goro replied, peering through the glass at the pile of plush snowmen. “You never said who they were gifts for, though. Why would someone need two?”

Akira glanced around, then lowered his voice. “The two girls, the wardens, that help Igor out in my Velvet Room like Jack Frost,” he said conspiratorially, starting up the crane machine. “So I was going to get them each the plush version. They really have been helpful, even if they’re...less than nice sometimes.” He’d been a little afraid of them in the beginning, but he’d gotten fond of Caroline and Justine over the course of a year. Igor, not so much. Cryptic warnings of ruin still weren’t very helpful. Akira was grateful for the pointers about fusion and such, but Caroline and Justine did the real work, as far as he could tell.

They took turns on the crane machine, determined not to give up until the elusive second plush had been obtained. It was Goro who finally succeeded, the claw hanging on by the barest grasp on Jack Frost’s head, and he punched the air in triumph when it dropped into the prize chute so Akira could grab it. “I did it!”

“Good job,” Akira said, leaning over to kiss his cheek while no one was looking. “I’ll have to tell them you helped me. Maybe you can properly meet them one day. I don’t know what the rules are for bringing guests into the Velvet Room.”

Goro hesitated, thinking of his own barren cube, the one that he wasn’t even sure anymore if it actually was the Velvet Room. “Perhaps… I wouldn’t want to upset your...what did you call them? Wardens?”

“Yeah, but they’d probably be happy to meet another Wild Card. I bet you could ask them a lot of things,” Akira said optimistically. “They might call you names, but they’ve never refused to answer questions about my powers.”

“After everything is over, then…” Goro agreed quietly. “I would be pleased to meet them.”

***

They roamed Akihabara for a long time, poking around to see what new games had come out and trying to win Featherman mini-figures out of the gachapon machines. They’d gotten a few random other toys, but finally a Featherman one popped out, and Goro eagerly popped open the capsule.

Akira leaned over to look. “Feather White Osprey,” he said, “right? From the new series?”

Goro nodded, holding the tiny figure in cupped hands. “Nothing has been announced about this character save their name and the appearance of their suit. We can only speculate what their role will be, whether as a true ‘sixth ranger’ type character like Feather White Swallow, or perhaps as a traitor of some kind…”

Akira clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll have to all watch together. You, me, and Futaba. Maybe Haru, too, since I think she’s secretly a fan. We can catch up on the episodes after we deal with Shido and then start watching each week.”

They took the train to Shibuya, and Goro treated him to hibachi at a fairly nice restaurant. But when they left the restaurant and headed back towards the Scramble, they realized too late that they were accidentally walking into a political rally. Shido was giving a speech near the front of the station, and they hung back to one side, just listening impassively as he went on about creating a stronger country in the wake of the defeat of the Phantom Thieves.

“The truly deplorable thing is that he believes what he’s saying,” Goro said quietly. “He believes that he can lead this country to greatness for the chosen few. That he has been chosen by god, or something. But that is most likely his own ego.”

Akira said nothing, barely listening. He was focusing on Shido, on his words, the way he spoke. He was talking about steering the country towards a brighter future, and…

_”If they would just be quiet and let me steer this country…”_

Akira made a sharp, distressed noise and reached up to clutch at his head with one hand. Goro moved immediately, guiding him back farther from the crowd where they wouldn’t catch Shido’s attention and holding his shoulders supportively. “What’s wrong? Is it your injuries?”

Akira stared at him, grey eyes wide with shock and underlying panic. “That’s _him_ ,” he said roughly, just loud enough to be heard.

“Shido?” Goro asked. “Yes, that’s him. I know you’ve seen him on TV before; why is this such a surprise?”

“No,” Akira said, reaching up to grab at Goro’s shoulders. “That’s the man. From that night. Why I’m here.”

Understanding dawned in a blaze that left Goro reeling with disbelief and incredulity. He caught Akira’s hand and dragged him away from the Scramble, back down Center Street and safely into the mostly-empty convenience store so that he could blurt, “Shido Masayoshi is the man that you were convicted of attacking? Are you _sure?_ ”

“I’m sure,” Akira whispered. “It’s him, the way he talks… I’d blocked it out, or something, but it has to be.”

Goro looked shell-shocked. The man that had ruined his life, was the root of all the suffering that he had gone through, was literally the scum of the earth...was also the man that had, from a certain perspective, given him Akira. By way of ruining Akira’s life, but that was all Shido knew how to do, so that part wasn’t a surprise. But this was more of a coincidence than he could rationalize away. Maybe Fate _was_ on their side, after all.

“Even more reason to take him down,” Goro said firmly. “If he confesses to all of his crimes, they could overturn your assault conviction. Your record would be wiped clean.”

Akira’s expression was so full of desperate hope that it was almost overwhelming, and Goro leaned their foreheads together for a moment as both of them tried to process what they’d learned. They only broke apart when an employee, clearly bored with no one else in the store, wandered over to see what they were doing. “Hey, is he all right?”

Goro smiled reassuringly, hoping the employee wouldn’t recognize him with a disheveled ponytail and casual clothes. “It’s fine. We accidentally wandered into some kind of rally, and my friend is uncomfortable in large crowds. He’s okay now, though. Right, Ren?”

“Huh?” Akira blinked, then caught on. “Oh. Y-Yeah. I’m fine. Thank you. I just needed a minute; the crowd was so much bigger than usual…”

“Oh!” The employee nodded understandingly. “That’s fine, then. Come up to the counter if you guys need anything; I can get you a cup of water or something.”

“Thank you,” Goro said, waving as the employee headed back around the end of the shelf, and then he nudged Akira. “Well done, playing along so quickly.”

Akira laughed shakily. “It’s part of being a thief, isn’t it? Being quick on your feet? Same to you; I wouldn’t have thought of the fake name.”

“That’s why we make such a good team,” Goro said, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together.

***

When they got back to the apartment, Akira grabbed a can of soda and settled in on the couch. Just an afternoon out shouldn’t have made him so tired, but he could practically hear Morgana telling him to get to bed at a reasonable time despite the cat’s absence. He was distracted, however, by his boyfriend settling beside him with a cagey look on his face.

“What is it?” he asked after a moment.

Goro bit his lip, looking down at the couch. After learning the truth about Akira’s assault conviction, he found himself more curious than he felt that he had a right to be. But fair was fair, wasn’t it? Akira knew all about _his_ less-than-pleasant past. A single inquiry would be fine. So he finally asked quietly, “Will you tell me what happened? The trial, and with your parents?”

Akira stiffened, and Goro immediately regretted asking. But Akira just set his soda on the table and flopped over to curl up against him. “It...was bad, to put it simply,” he said. “My parents believed the police report and the witness. At least, they acted like they did. I kept telling them it wasn’t true, that I hadn’t hurt anyone, but they didn’t really defend me or try to make me feel better. They were more worried about the court fees and the impact everything was having on what people thought of our family.”

Goro didn’t say anything, just listening intently, and ran his hand through Akira’s awkwardly-flattened hair. Akira sighed, tucking his head into the crook of Goro’s neck, and continued, “I went through a trial where there was only one witness, and she got up on the stand and said exactly what Shido wanted her to. She lied about me, the prosecutor reinforced it, and my lawyer barely tried. I only got to talk a little, and they disregarded most of it because I couldn’t remember perfect details. I got expelled from my school, my friends all stopped talking to me… I felt so scared and isolated and I tried so hard to pretend I didn’t, because I didn’t want to get upset and end up… I don’t know; they thought I was a troublemaker already… I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“Your parents are ridiculous,” Goro huffed, and Akira could hear the tiniest edge of Loki in his voice. “If I didn’t have Shido as an example, I would be more surprised that someone could treat their flesh and blood with so little regard, but...well.” He squeezed Akira gently. “You are quite possibly the most ‘good’ person that I have ever known, despite anything that you may think is wrong with you. You are certainly better than me. And when all of this is over, and you have helped all of these people, I hope you will let us help you in return.”

Akira grumbled quietly. “It’s not that bad.”

Goro frowned. “That implies that it is at least some form of ‘bad’. And that is too much.” He kissed the top of Akira’s head. “We will worry about that after we deal with Shido. There is still plenty of time. And...thank you for sharing that with me.”

“I stomped around in your head. Least I could do,” Akira murmured. “Will you tell me about something from when you were younger?”

“...I can do that.” Goro shifted so they’d both be more comfortable, and smiled. 

“Let me tell you about when I awakened Robin Hood… For real, this time...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, a giant pile of salt that Goro doesn’t get one of the new Featherman outfits: “Well, I’ll just _do it myself._ ” Ospreys are cool. And I’d have given Akira a figure too but I still can’t figure out what his is supposed to be. All I get from the katakana is “Duke”, but that’s not a kind of bird…
> 
> One of my goals for editing is to one day make all of my Featherman references consistent. I will probably end up accidentally writing a season of Featherman in the process, knowing me.
> 
> Yes, hello, JackFrostQuest2K16 is still happening, and has finally been successful! Now we just have to get the Jack Frosts to their proper recipients.
> 
> Next chapter: What do fancy dinners, oversized swimming pools, involuntary shapeshifting, masquerades, and fun-house mirrors have in common? :3


	49. December 17th, 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**
> 
> Okay, now that I have your attention. XD This is a warning that there is some stuff at the end of this that _might_ be skirting the M-rating? I dunno, in my semi-professional librarian opinion it’s not anything worse than anything I’ve seen in a YA novel, but there’s some pretty solid implications and I’m just being thorough. Plus, I know there’s some people who are not here for the Sappy Bullshit™, so there is a hard-linebreak (the one I usually use for flashbacks) so that you guys can feel free to skip the ending if that’s not your thing. You won’t be missing plot or anything. ;)

Shido’s Palace was as opulent and overblown as ever. Goro was used to it after spending time poking around, looking for flaws in the defenses and small ways to ingratiate himself subconsciously, but the other Thieves were in awe of the sheer size of the distortion, as the ship sailed on through the drowned city without a care. But with their time exhausted and Akira as healed as he was going to be, they had to get moving. Today was the day, and tomorrow, the calling card.

Goro led them through the entrance hall up to a sort of antechamber, with hallways leading off to either side and a massive golden door at the end. Masked cognitions drifted around, chatting and sipping champagne and paying the Thieves no mind.

“This ship is huge,” Futaba said, already trying to run a scan. Her evolved persona, Prometheus, shined like a tiny rainbow disco ball above her cupped hands as she tried to plot a map of the corridors. “Ace, have you got any idea where the Treasure is?”

“Through that door, of course,” Goro commented, gesturing to the giant door. “But we won’t be getting through without five letters of recommendation. I have every confidence that gathering the letters will be child’s play, however, considering my public reputation and the sort of people that Shido attracts in reality.”

Speaking to the guests confirmed the locations of the people that they needed to talk to, and when they arrived outside of the restaurant, Goro offered Akira his arm. “We will find Ooe-san in here. The rest of you, please follow me, and do try to play the part of an enamored entourage.”

Akira took his arm, putting on his best demure expression and clearly enjoying playing along, and Goro approached the hostess stand, pulling out a card with his free hand. It looked a bit like a hotel keycard, and the cognition beamed at him. “Ah, welcome back, Akechi-san. A table for...nine, I see?”

“Yes, please. Near the window, if you don’t mind,” Goro replied, and she gathered up a stack of menus and waved them to follow.

Once they were all seated, with complimentary glasses of water and a well-stocked bread basket, Ryuji immediately reached for a roll.

“You know the food isn’t real, right?” Makoto said, puzzled.

Ryuji shrugged. “It still tastes good, even if it’s not gonna fill me up.”

They all placed their orders while waiting for Ooe to show up, keeping up appearances despite the waitress’s clear skepticism about Morgana. But Goro smoothed everything over easily, and when Ooe did make an appearance, he got up from the table. “I’ll be right back with the letter. Please, give me just a moment.”

“We’re ready to step in if it looks like anything is going wrong,” Morgana said confidently, and the rest of the Thieves nodded in agreement.

Ooe recognized him immediately, which didn’t surprise Goro at all. What did surprise him was that the man had shadow-gold eyes, not regular eyes like a cognitive. Goro had never been close enough to any of them to check before, preferring to remain unnoticed within the Palace while he could. Was Shido’s influence so great that he could draw other shadows into his distortion? Would something like that have happened to him, if his emotional collapse hadn’t been severe enough to spawn a Palace of his own?

“Akechi-kun!” Ooe’s shadow said boisterously. “The Detective Prince himself! Good to see that someone like you is on Shido’s side!”

Goro smiled his best television smile and nodded. “Yes, sir. Shido-san truly is a great man.” He kept up with the small talk with only a small bit of effort; Ooe was all-too willing to brag about how he’d schemed to get the Minister of Transport to resign back in April. But Goro was quick to turn the conversation back to Shido when he could. “I was hoping to speak with him, and was wondering if you would write me a letter of recommendation…”

It couldn’t possibly be this easy. Goro was convinced that any second something would slip, and he would be pounced on by shadows and cognitions alike. But Ooe merely flagged down a waiter to bring him a pen and a sheet of paper, and wrote out a brief letter before signing it and folding it up to hand to Goro. “Best of luck, Akechi-kun! You’ll have a bright future ahead of you at Shido’s side!”

“Thank you, sir. I won’t forget this.” Goro bowed and quickly retreated back towards the Thieves table, where he was welcomed back to his seat with smiles and excited chatter.

“Ace, that was amazing! Do you think all of them will be willing to talk to you?” Ann said excitedly.

“If we play them right,” Goro said. “I’ve never been particularly grateful to be a celebrity, after initially using it to get near Shido, but it’s finally truly useful again.”

He flagged down the waitress, getting her to charge the food to his member card, and then they set off deeper into the ship, making their way to the pool deck to locate the former noble that had been funneling Shido money. It took a bit of convincing to get Ann and Haru to agree to don skimpy swimsuits, but Goro promised that they wouldn’t have to talk, and the apparent presence of ‘arm candy’ won him enough respect from the man to get a second letter. Goro promised they would see him later, and the three of them fled as quickly as possible, not wanting to be around him any longer than necessary.

The TV executive in the ship’s casino area was tricky, mostly because he started bad-mouthing Haru’s father partway through Goro’s conversation with him. It had taken Yusuke bodily holding her back to avoid a fight starting, and once they had the letter they left as quickly as they’d abandoned the pool deck, to avoid any potential bloodshed Haru was willing to cause.

It was only once they’d ventured upstairs, to where the IT company president was holed up in his room, that they ran into their first real obstacle. Unlike downstairs, where the cognitions roamed relatively freely between different areas of the ship, the floors with the staterooms were patrolled by shadow guards, and none of them needed Futaba’s scans to let them know that they would attack those not meant to be wandering around.

Akira was leading the way with Futaba, Ann, and Makoto on his heels, Prometheus hovering above them in a constant scan to help them see where the guards were. They finally found a clear room, and Akira motioned them forward with a red-gloved hand. But as soon as the four of them crossed the threshold, Prometheus dissipated as all of them, with a comically cartoonish poof, turned into mice. Mice that were still wearing their masks, but mice nonetheless, and all of them scrambled for a moment before darting back into the hallway.

“Is this like that thing in the Pyramid?” Ryuji exclaimed. Haru had already knelt down and scooped up Ann and Makoto, petting the obviously-agitated Makoto-mouse carefully as she squeaked with distress.

“Ugh, that means we can’t cure it,” Morgana groaned. “I guess it’ll wear off eventually.”

Goro dropped down to mouse-level, as did Yusuke, both of them fascinated by the transformation. The artist poked at Futaba, saying thoughtfully, “This is quite a pre-paws-terous situation, but it should be fine if we pro-squeak with caut--ouch!” He shook his hand to soothe the sting where Futaba had bit him, but didn’t stop smiling. Goro ignored them both, choosing instead to tug on Akira’s tail gently. His mouse-boyfriend squeaked loudly and then melodramatically tipped over onto his side, just in time for the effect to wear off and leave him sprawled on the carpet instead.

The others had changed back as well, and Makoto looked extremely unhappy. “What caused that?” she demanded nervously.

Futaba already had Prometheus back up. “Looks like it’s a proximity thing. Anyone that Shido sees as an intruder gets transformed near those statues.” She pointed into the room, where a particularly ugly golden statue of Shido was standing, the base glowing oddly. “From what I can tell, they’re all linked to some kind of switch in a central room, so we could probably shut it down if we could get to it.”

“I suppose I’ll go,” Goro said, stepping over Akira and heading for the doorway. “After all, it would be too dangerous for the rest of you to go as mi--”

The rest of his words were cut off in a panicked squeak as he, too, poofed into a mouse. Akira rolled over, a delighted grin on his face at the sight, but the smile disappeared as he watched the mouse hunch into itself sadly. He reached out a hand. “Ace, come here.”

The mouse slunk back into the hallway, and Akira petted his head gently. “Hey. It’s not your fault.”

Goro squeaked morosely, and Akira scooted forward on his stomach to bump their noses together. “Stop that. You couldn’t have known.”

Futaba muffled a squeal at the two of them, pulling her phone out and snapping a picture. The others were more focused on the actual meaning of Goro’s transformation. “So Shido doesn’t trust Ace, either?” Haru said incredulously. “Even though he works for him?”

“I get the impression Shido doesn’t trust anyone,” Akira replied distractedly. “That’s why all the cognitions are wearing masks. It’s definitely not because he’s a fan of the Phantom Thieves.” As Goro turned back to normal, Akira sat up to wrap an arm around him. “It’s fine, Ace. We already knew Shido was an asshole.”

“But…” Goro said quietly. “If I never managed to gain his trust at all, if I’m still seen as an intruder… My entire plan was for nothing, wasn’t it?”

“We threw your plan by the wayside the moment that you agreed to join our side,” Yusuke pointed out. “It no longer matters what your plan once was. What matters is the plan we are enacting now.” He smiled. “And to have you truly running a Palace with us with no ulterior motives is a mice change of pa--ouch!”

“Go to hell, Inari,” Futaba said exasperatedly, rubbing her elbow. She pulled up a map of the floor so that they could all gather around, pointing out the room at the center of the maze of hallways. “If we can get here, we can shut off the mouse thing. And then the IT executive’s room is over here. Right now we’d be mice if we tried to go in, so we can’t just sequence break this, unfortunately.”

“We just gotta be careful, right?” Ryuji asked. “We can’t fight those guys as mice, so we gotta be stealthy. It’s just like sneakin’ through any other Palace.”

“That’s right,” Makoto agreed. “We just have to be careful…”

It turned out to be quite an adventure, sneaking through the halls, wedging themselves under furniture and through tiny passages as they made their way steadily towards the center. The mouse fields weren’t consistent, leaving them waiting to change back to humans so that they could unlock doors to open new ways. As Ann pointed out after the third time they had to backtrack, it was a ridiculous layout. Real guests would riot at such complicated hallways, but the cognitives and shadows obviously didn’t care.

The central room turned out to be a round, two-story sitting area with a very large statue of Shido in the middle. This one wasn’t glowing; instead, it had a large button built into the base, guarded by a very large shadow. As they waited for the transformation to wear off, they spread around the room, ducking behind furniture so that when they did become human again, the shadow was subjected to an immediate ambush from all sides at once.

Akira pressed the button once the shadow disintegrated and tucked his pistol back into his coat pocket. “We’re clear to go now, right?”

“There’s still the guards to worry about,” Morgana said. “But now that we’re not going to be transformed, it should be a piece of cake.”

They were able to dodge all but a few battles, and then Goro charmed his way into the IT president’s suite, taking Futaba with him under the guise of having tracked her down and wanting to introduce her. After all, she had shut down the fake Medjed, and this was the man that Goro had worked with to create the fake in the first place. It was the perfect ploy. When they returned, Futaba was practically glowing.

“I know where they’re keeping mom’s research,” she said eagerly. “Not _specifically_ , but he dropped enough hints that I can track it down. And then I can do exactly what they did, and make myself a copy and delete everything else.” Her expression shifted to something determined. “No one else should have access to that. Everyone but us has only used it to hurt people, so I want to keep it locked down, forever.”

“That is probably the ideal course of action,” Goro agreed. “People like Shido will always exist, and the sort of power that Isshiki-san’s research would give them only makes them worse. It’s for the best.”

Makoto nodded. “We’ve almost got Shido, too. Just one more letter… Although, considering how important the other members of his inner circle have been, I’m surprised the last is something as mundane as a cleaner.”

Goro hesitated. “...I’m sorry, _mundane?_ ”

“It does seem odd that a member of the janitorial staff would be thought of so highly,” Yusuke commented.

_“What?”_ Goro blurted. “What are you all talking about?”

“What’s wrong?” Akira asked, and Goro looked around at all of them incredulously.

“Are you all really that dense? Have you never watched a yakuza film in your life?” he demanded.

“What does the yakuza have to do wi--” Makoto trailed off, and her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“What? What is it? I don’t get it,” Ryuji and Morgana said, almost in unison.

Makoto frowned. “In reference to the yakuza, a cleaner would be someone that gets rid of ‘problems’...by making people disappear.”

“Shit,” Ryuji swore. “We’re definitely gonna have to fight this guy, aren’t we?”

“Maybe not. I mean, Ace has managed to sweet-talk everyone else…” Ann said tentatively.

Akira waved them back in the direction of the stairs. “We need to move on either way. We’ll figure it out when we find this guy. If we can avoid a fight, great. If not, we’ll deal.”

***

They couldn’t avoid a fight.

A member of the yakuza was much more observant than the elite addled by the grand ship, and as soon as the accusation had been tossed out that Goro was leading the Phantom Thieves to the ship’s heart as a favor rather than a trap, they’d been forced to fight him. It had been tough, because he’d had several lackeys with him, but with all nine of them they had triumphed, winning the final letter out of him and sending him back to his original self, not necessarily with a changed heart, but free of Shido’s distortion, at least.

And so they retreated triumphantly back to the safe room in the antechamber, to take a breath before they moved on to the Treasure room. There was almost a guarantee that something would be waiting to stop them, but they were sure they could handle it.

“So the letters have become the keycards to open the door,” Makoto said, holding the five cards fanned out in her hands. “All we have to do now is make sure the Treasure is where it’s supposed to be.” She passed the cards to Goro. “Are you going to do the honors, Ace?”

Goro shook his head, taking one from the pile and looking around. One card passed to Futaba, one to Akira, one to Haru, and one for the rest to share. “Shido has hurt all of us in our own ways. We do this together, or not at all.”

One by one they scanned the cards, and the golden door opened, revealing the legislators’ chamber beyond. Hovering in the center of the room was the hazy shape of the Treasure, and all of them sighed with relief.

“This isn’t far in at all. We’ll only have to deal with a little bit of the actual Palace once the alarms go off,” Makoto said.

Futaba stepped away from the group, looking around the room before finally seeming to settle on something. “Guys, over here!” They followed, puzzled, and she pulled out her phone and propped it on one of the desks. “Everybody gather over there; we’re going to take a picture.”

“You got a camera to work!” Ann gasped.

“I did see her take a picture earlier!” Ryuji accused.

Futaba grinned. “I took a bunch while you guys weren’t paying attention. It might be our last Palace; we needed something to remember everything by.”

Akira felt a rush of gratitude, and on impulse he scooped up Morgana and grabbed Goro’s hand, towing them towards where Futaba had indicated. Actual photographic proof of all of them, of Morgana’s metaverse form, of their thief gear, visual evidence beyond sketches that all of this had been real… It was worth more than all the yen he could possibly extort from shadows.

And he had a lot of yen extorted from shadows.

They took two, one with masks and one with the masks pushed up to their foreheads so they could smile proudly, contentedly, with their real faces. Futaba picked the phone back up to check the quality, nodding to herself, and all of them agreed that they all needed a copy.

And then the door, left open at the other end of the room, slammed closed. As one they turned to look, eyes widening at the person standing there.

It looked just like Goro did in reality, in his tan coat and sharp tie. But his eyes were blank, empty, and Yusuke said, “Is this...a cognitive version of Ace?”

“Captain Shido is displeased with you,” the cognitive said coldly. “He has no need for failures and traitors.”

“Shido knows nothing,” Goro countered sharply, though he couldn’t help but feel cold as his doppelganger pulled out a gun, holding it casually.

The cognitive smiled. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? He was going to get rid of you after the election anyway. There has to be retribution for those people you murdered.”

Goro froze, stuck on the first half of what he’d said. Shido had never trusted him, never placed any kind of value in him as a person. Shido was planning to kill him like he didn’t mean anything, probably with a bullet to his head in an empty building somewhere. What else was the cleaner for, after all?

Ryuji took a furious step forward. “That fucker is the one who ordered all of those murders! What kind of hypocrite is he?!”

“He expects loyalty to the end, which I am completely willing to give him,” Cognitive Akechi said, still smiling that unsettling smile. “I’ll gladly die for him. With the Phantom Thieves behind the mental shutdowns, all we needed was a scapegoat for the psychotic breakdowns. It would have been easy. Ace Detective Akechi Goro revealed as a fraud, dead by his own hand from the guilt of inducing those breaks and then using them to boost his reputation.” He grinned maliciously. “That’s not too far off from the truth of what might have happened, is it? You’ve just been a puppet all along; we can simply cut your strings when you’ve outlived your usefulness.”

They all stood speechless, every one of them thinking back to the horrifying scene from the Theatre. Goro didn’t move, wanting to speak but feeling the words lock in his throat. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, expecting Akira, but instead found Haru.

“I know,” she said simply. “I know how it feels to have a parent that sees you as a tool to be used. I just didn’t realize how severe Shido’s view of you was.”

“I…” Goro began, and Haru squeezed his shoulder.

“You have proven over and over that this isn’t who you are anymore,” she said. “Shido’s perception of you as a weapon and a scapegoat is no more accurate than my father’s of me as a willing doll, even though there was no cognition of me in his Palace. Whatever this is, it isn’t you.”

Goro took a deep breath, aware of the rest of the Thieves coming to stand at his back. “I... spent so long wondering why no one wanted me. Wondering what I had done wrong. And I’ve learned now that it wasn’t _me_ , because I have people who care even though I’m _not_ perfect, but doesn’t that just make it worse? At least if I had done something, it would have justified the suffering inflicted on me as a child. But now it is merely the product of random chance. Some cruel god deciding to point down and declare ‘That one. That one is going to suffer.’”

“Gods are not to blame for your pathetic need to be loved,” Cognitive Akechi said cruelly.

“No,” Goro agreed. “And I will never be able to atone for what I did. All I can do now is continue to improve. Continue to help my friends.” He drew his saber. “And that means destroying the puppet that I used to be!”

The cognitive scowled, lifting his hand, and a whole crowd of shadows appeared. Futaba almost immediately retreated with Prometheus, and Morgana let out a startled cry.

“He can summon shadows?!”

Goro gritted his teeth, looking at the number of shadows warily. “Shido doesn’t understand personas, so this must be the power my doppelganger has instead.”

“It’s nothing we can’t handle,” Akira said reassuringly, drawing his knife and stepping up beside Goro and Haru. “You never have to face things like this alone ever again.”

***

In the end, Cognitive Akechi wasn’t particularly strong. With an element of surprise or if they’d had to fight more to reach this point, he might have been a threat, but in a direct fight against persona-users, his gun could only carry him so far. They dealt with waves and waves of shadows as Akira and Goro fought their way closer and closer, and at last Akira managed to duck a shot by the skin of his teeth during a grand final charge up an aisle and kick the gun from the cognitive’s hand.

Goro stepped up, levelling his own gun at his doppelganger’s head. Cognitive Akechi glanced from him to Akira and back, and said with an exhausted sigh, “You don’t deserve him, and you know it. You’re nothing. No one cares for a tool once it has served its purpose.”

“...it’s not about deserving,” Goro replied after a long second of silence. “I want him, and for some reason he wants me too. So that is what I’ll take. And I don’t need my father’s misconceptions daring to tell me otherwise.”

He looked away when he pulled the trigger, unwilling to see the result, and Akira stepped around to capture his attention instead and leaned up to kiss his forehead. “It’s done,” he said. “We’ve routed the Treasure. Let’s go home.”

Goro let Akira and Ann grab his hands, walking with him from the Treasure room, heading back towards the exit point at the front of the ship. Reality shifted back into view around them, leaving them in the alleys beside the Diet Building, and Futaba held up her phone.

“All right, guys, tomorrow is the calling card. And I’ve got an idea to make this the most spectacular thing we’ve ever done. But I need you guys to meet me in Mementos tomorrow morning so we can set it up properly.”

“You’re not going to explain ahead of time, are you?” Yusuke said, resigned.

Futaba giggled deviously. “Nope. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

With plans made and established, they started splitting up to go home and rest. There was no way Shido was going to be easy to beat, and they knew they needed all the time they could take to mentally prepare. Morgana cozied up to Haru, clearly trying to wheedle his way to fancy tuna, and as Haru willingly scooped him up and left, Akira turned to Goro and caught his hand.

“Come back to the apartment with me?” he asked quietly. “You haven’t stayed over since I got hurt. I know it’s been to avoid suspicion but...everything ends tomorrow, and I know I’d sleep better if you were there.”

Goro shook his head, chuckling. “All of those words, as if I would say no. Really, Akira.” He squeezed the other boy’s hand lightly. “Of course I will.”

They were quiet on the train, pressed together, hoods up to avoid attention. Safely behind closed doors, dinner was a simple thing, just some reheated fried rice and yakitori, and then they spent most of the evening on the couch, watching game show reruns. During a commercial, though, Goro finally said, “It really does end tomorrow, for both of us, doesn’t it? I’ll be free of Shido’s influence, but you as well… This could clear your record.”

“That’s not the main thing I’m worried about, but yeah. I guess it could,” Akira said, holding Goro tighter.

“Of course that’s not what you’re worried about, but I am,” Goro huffed. “You constantly worry about everyone but yourself, but I want to do this for you as much as myself.”

Akira looked like he barely knew what to do with the sentiment. “Where have you been all my life?” he asked breathlessly. His handsome prince; what in the world had he done to deserve someone as impossible as Akechi Goro?

Goro looked like he was seriously considering the question, and before Akira could tell him that it was just rhetorical, he said, with measured seriousness, “Waiting to meet you, I suppose.”

Akira’s eyes widened, and Goro smiled wryly. “That sounds disgustingly sappy, I am aware, but I can only see it as the truth. I spent so long believing that I would find my father and he would actually want me. Love me. And then...well, you see how that went.” He laughed quietly. “I just wanted someone to _see_ me, for real, and had convinced myself that it was an impossible dream. And then you stumbled into my life, and brought all of these things with you that I hadn’t had in...forever. Love. Friends. Acceptance. With you, I finally found what I had been chasing all this time, deep down beneath the distortion that had choked me. Somewhere to belong.”

Leaning forward to press a kiss to Akira’s mouth, he concluded, “You were right all along. Fate brought us together, and stupidly I insisted on trying to make us enemies for too long. I’m so glad that I have all of the Thieves now...but you, especially. You all are my family now, and I will do _anything_ to protect that.”

Akira leaned in for another kiss, and another, unable to help the stupid smile on his face. As Futaba would probably say, this was the final boss. Tomorrow was the first day of a better future. He never would have dreamed of it when he’d first come to Tokyo, but now here he was.

How had he gotten so _lucky?_

* * *

***

When they finally ended up in Akira’s room, they stumbled back towards the bed, mouths meeting clumsily and eagerly until they practically tripped and landed in the sheets. They separated just long enough to reorient themselves and then reconnected, each kiss blending into the next as they sank into the pillows. Goro tugged at the hem of Akira’s shirt as Akira attacked his buttons, both of them needing to feel the other, warm skin and panting breaths and rapid heartbeats.

It was only after most of their clothes were gone that Akira pulled away, breaking the kiss and hesitating. His pants were looped around one ankle where he hadn’t quite kicked them all the way off, and Goro was still in his unbuttoned shirt. Other than that, both of them were in just underwear, and Akira shifted away anxiously.

“Hm?” Goro paused, reaching up to brush the backs of his fingers over Akira’s cheek. “Is everything all right?”

Akira swallowed hard. “Would you believe me if I said I was nervous?” he asked, but leaned into the gentle touch. “I’ve never done this before, you know.”

He kicked the pants off of his ankle and tugged a corner of the blanket up over himself, and Goro raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Neither have I, but… You stayed over at my apartment, flagrantly lounging around in my room without a shirt, and you’re self-conscious _now?_ ”

Akira looked away again, his cheeks pink. “That was different. I didn’t _really_ expect anything to happen then. This is…” He shifted awkwardly, squirming as Goro’s hand ran up his thigh slowly.

Goro leaned in to brush their lips together in a delicate kiss. “You’ve seen so much of me,” he said quietly, “Everything that I am, right down to my heart. Do you really think that I would judge you now?”

“It’s not that. I…” Akira ducked his head, curling in on himself as Goro’s hand settled warmly on his hip. “I just…”

Goro waited patiently as Akira searched for the words, his expression soft. Akira finally said hesitantly, “I’m afraid of messing up. I don’t want to do something wrong, or not be good enough, and then...”

To his surprise, Goro started laughing, trying to muffle it with one hand, but unable to completely quiet himself. Akira started to pull away completely, and Goro grabbed him, crushing their mouths together in a messy kiss. “You idiot,” he said breathlessly when they parted again. “I didn’t realize how alike we really are. You think that I don’t worry that one day I will finally be too much for you? That you’ll abandon me the way everyone else has?”

“I wouldn’t,” Akira protested, and Goro grinned.

“Then why, after everything that I have done, do you think you could _ever_ do something bad enough that I would abandon _you?_ ”

Akira whined very quietly, pressing as close as he could as he tried to convey everything he felt through his lips against Goro’s. Cautious hands wandered, mapping out old scars and new pleasures, and both of them just let themselves indulge. There was time for curious touches and tentative strokes, muffled sounds and desperate kisses. And when they finally settled in to sleep, sated and safe and warm with Goro sprawled half on top of him, Akira couldn’t remember ever being more relaxed the night before a heist.

It was a good feeling. He could be happy with just this for now, for better or for worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akechi: “Come and make me feel until the pain don’t matter; finally think I’ve found what I’m [chasing after](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7dcA_N6EmQ)…”  
> Akira: “...I’m glad you’re like this.”
> 
> We are acting on the assumption that social links and whatnot have been carrying on in the background, and when Akira hasn’t been able to go out in public, the other Thieves are supporting each other and taking his place. Akira’s links increased through spending time with them in the apartment, but their personal journeys continued with each other’s help instead. The ultimates are tied to a continuing advancement on their personal journey anyway, not necessarily Akira.
> 
> That’s a lot of explanation for “fuck it, I’m not doing everyone’s second awakenings”, but yeah.
> 
> Confession: I like the Mouse Puzzle. I do. It was a clever symbolic thing with a fun stealth mechanic. But it should have been limited to one really good, entertaining puzzle instead of multiple chunks of long hallways of the same thing. Doing the same puzzle four times was too much and basically seemed like they were trying to make the Palace take longer, especially since that was the only _real_ puzzle. So, like everything else I don’t like entirely, I fixed it. XD
> 
> Next chapter: ...will be delayed a day. It’s going up on Sunday instead of Saturday, for a very specific reason. But that’s okay, because you all know what’s coming. Right?


	50. December 18th, 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an important note at the end, this time. So please don't skip it, okay?

_**"WHAT IS UP, JAPAN?”** _

All over Tokyo, and all over the country, every TV channel and media stream abruptly cut to the grinning logo of Alibaba, the booming voice of the Phantom Thieves blaring from every speaker. People stopped what they were doing, peering at screens that moments before had been showing the news or YouCube videos or advertisements, caught up in the dramatics as the Thieves teased to reveal the man truly behind the mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdowns.

Futaba, safely with the Thieves in an empty alley near Nagata-cho Station, using public wifi to avoid being tracked to her house or Akira’s apartment, fended off every attempt from Shido’s lackeys and media crews alike to retake control. They’d gathered in Mementos that morning to record the video, using Futaba’s camera and some clever tricks with train lights to obscure their faces in silhouette.

_“The identity of this man is the Minister of State for Special Missions: Shido Masayoshi!”_

All around the city, people cried out. A roar of confusion rose from the crowd assembled in the Scramble Crossing. A certain reporter and bartender watching on a phone in Shinjuku were frozen with shock, realizing how severe what they had been told about Shido’s crimes actually was. Sakura Sojiro continued drying dishes, satisfied with Shido at last being called out, but worried about his kids.

_“As proof of what we’re saying, look! All of us are alive and well!”_

In the offices of the Shadow Operatives, Hamuko let out a screech as the screen changed to show the nine silhouetted figures. Mitsuru was on her feet before she’d even registered moving, mouth falling open. In a dorm at Todai, an irate student hammered on a door, trying to get Yu and Yosuke to shut up and stop yelling. In Tatsumi Port Island, half a household was yelling with joy, while Minato just clutched his phone with an overwhelmed, relieved smile.

_“We’re not gonna stand by and let this guy wreck the country for the sake of his goddamn ego! Ain’t that right, Leader?”_

_“Yes. Before that happens,_ we _will take this country.”_

In a small town an hour and a half outside of Tokyo, a couple gasped as the leader of the Phantom Thieves stepped into the light, cool grey eyes filling the screen. But then the camera pulled back, revealing the black-masked figure at his side, who flicked his cape back, put a hand on his hip, and smiled.

_“We’re coming to steal your heart, Shido-san. This ends here.”_

In an office high above Tokyo, Shido Masayoshi hurled the remote through his TV. Akechi Goro had signed his death sentence earlier than anticipated. No matter. The traitor could die alongside the thieves he’d turned his coat for. If his Palace didn’t kill them, _he would_.

In the meantime… There were other means of going after the Thieves. He knew where the leader lived, after all.

***

“Akihiko, you’re on your way to the prosecutors’ office, right?”

Mitsuru had been on the phone since she’d managed to get shaking fingers to dial. She listened to Akihiko on the other end, nodding even though he couldn’t see her. “Do not engage, just be nearby in case anyone tries something. If Shido Masayoshi really tried to assassinate that boy in custody, there’s no guarantee he won’t go after the people connected to them to try to stop them. I’ll talk to you soon; keep me posted.”

When she hung up, she looked over at Fuuka, who was typing at near-lightspeed as she tried to trace the video. “Any luck?”

“It’s been routed through at least ten proxy servers in four different countries,” Fuuka replied distractedly. “It could take hours to reverse it back to the origin, and there’s no guarantee the origin is where they’re even staying.”

“Keep working. Even a clue is better than nothing.” Mitsuru turned to Hamuko, who had been texting since the calling card broadcast. “Is your brother okay?”

“Better than okay,” Hamuko said. “He hasn’t said so in many words, but he’s really relieved.”

Mitsuru nodded. “Good. I have a task for you. Shinjiro is enroute to Cafe Leblanc. I want you to meet up with him there and make sure no one is targeting Sakura Sojiro. If they know that Kurusu-kun is the leader of the Thieves, they may try to take his guardian as a bargaining chip.”

Hamuko saluted, already halfway to the door. “Got it, senpai. I’ll call once we scope out the situation.”

Mitsuru picked up the phone again and dialed. “Yu, where are you?”

_“Yosuke and I are on our way to the Diet Building, but from what I’m seeing on the news, there’s already a crowd forming. I don’t know how close we’re going to be able to get.”_

“Just do your best. If we can’t get eyes on the Thieves tonight, we’ll start looking for Kurusu Akira tomorrow. They need to know that there’s something wrong in meta-space.”

_“Roger that, Mitsuru-san. We’ll be there soon.”_

When she hung up the phone, Mitsuru took a deep breath. There was no reason to worry yet. Things were handled, they would be fine. They finally had something to work with, and Kurusu Akira was still alive. The situation was improving by the moment.

***

The spotlights that waved above the cruise ship were tinted blood red with the heightened alarm as the Thieves sprinted inside. Masked cognitions cowered and cried out at the atmosphere of panic, while the guards were more diligent than ever. Even their familiarity with Goro didn't stop them from coming after the Thieves, and the way to the Treasure room was a gauntlet of powerful shadows. But nothing was going to stop them now. This was the end of everything. Taking out Shido would finally bring all of them justice, for their Leader, their Ace, for all the roots that Shido had dug down into all of their lives with his conspiracy.

Everything would be over.

The doors to the legislators’ chamber shut behind them with a final-sounding thud, and all of them walked down the aisles with measured steps. The Treasure wasn’t there, though, and as they looked around, the room began to rumble, the front podium and ceiling shifting and rotating. Yusuke led the way up the spinning platforms, and they ended up on the roof of the Diet Building in a wide, arena-like space. And waiting for them, dressed like a military leader in a fantasy army, was Shido’s shadow.

It was immediately apparent where his stylization as a king had come from in Goro’s Palace. He wore a large helmet like a crown, and gave off the aura of someone in complete control. He looked them over with a disgusted frown, saying coldly, “The Phantom Thieves. I could almost be impressed that you made it here, if I wasn’t aware that you had help.” Golden eyes focused directly on Goro, who looked away but stood his ground, and Shadow Shido smirked. “I’m surprised they trusted you. After all, you worked against them, worked against me… how do they know you won’t turn again, now that you’re here?”

“They showed me how warped I had become,” Goro snapped, “which is more than you ever did. They’ve seen my heart! They know what I am!”

“A murderer?” Shadow Shido said harshly. “I made you, Akechi. Your fame, your apartment, your schooling, all of that comes from me. I taught you the full potential of the gift you were given, the reason that God put you in my path. I was chosen to lead this country, and granted this perfect tool to help me succeed.”

“ _You’re_ the one that made him a murderer!” Ann cried. “How can you say he’s just a tool?!”

“What kind of person does that to a teenager?” Makoto demanded.

“Your own son,” Yusuke added, quieter, but with no less venom, and Akira reached for Goro’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

Shadow Shido’s expression barely flickered. He regarded them with the same impassive stare. “I thought it was something like that,” he said, and Goro’s eyes widened. “Something about you reminded me too much of that woman. I wonder when you were planning to tell me? After the election, perhaps? It was obvious from the start that you were up to something.”

“Y-You knew…?” Goro gasped. “You knew there was a possibility that I was… and you still…?”

“It worked in my favor,” Shadow Shido replied carelessly. “Your ridiculous need for acknowledgement kept you right in the palm of my hand. Until you decided to start gallivanting with thieves, that is. I hadn’t expected to need to eliminate you before I could use you to clean house after the election, but no matter. I will find another way, just as I did with Okumura.”

Haru was practically vibrating with rage, and Ryuji reached out to put a hand on her shoulder and ground her. Whatever Shido was, rushing him without an idea of what he was capable of was a bad idea.

To everyone’s surprise, though, Goro started to laugh. He covered his mouth, hiding a smile with red-gloved fingers, his other hand tightening in a death grip on Akira’s. “You’re an idiot, Shido-san.”

“What?” Shadow Shido’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl.

“You. Are. An. Idiot,” Goro repeated, enunciating each word clearly. He looked up to face Shido directly, smile firmly in place. “How poorly you treat people has led right to your downfall.”

“And what, exactly, do you mean by that?”

Goro smiled. “The Phantom Thieves have treated me with more empathy and kindness than anyone else in my entire life,” he said firmly. “They showed me that I am deserving of friends and acknowledgement without the ridiculous standards that you expect from me. Why would I _not_ turn to that instead?”

“It’s not just that,” Akira picked up easily, knowing exactly what point Goro was trying to make. “You brought all of us to this point. We were going to disband after our very first heist. Do you know what changed our minds?” His smirk was absolutely wicked. “You did. You and your associates. You bumped into two of us in a fancy hotel buffet, and you were so rude and dismissive, we decided then and there that we would keep being Phantom Thieves. That we would take out other corrupt adults, and help even more people.”

“If you hadn’t been such an asshole, we wouldn’t’ve had a chance to track you down in the first place,” Ryuji snarked. “You ‘made’ us, your worst nightmare, the same way you made Ace, with the way you treat people.”

Haru smiled coldly, hefting her axe. “And beyond even that, you are the reason our leader is in Tokyo in the first place. Without him, none of this would have been possible.”

For the first time, Shadow Shido looked uncertain. “What does your pathetic leader have to do with me?”

Akira reached up and gently lifted his mask from his face. “Do you remember me?”

Shadow Shido’s eyes widened. “Kurusu… I knew your name sounded familiar. You’re the one from that night!”

“Exactly,” Akira said, replacing his mask. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t ruined a teenager’s life for trying to stop you from attacking someone. I came to Tokyo because of the probation I’m on, because of _you_. I ended up with the Thieves, because of _you_. I met Goro, _because of you._ Everything that you have done has led to your own downfall, one tiny act of cruelty at a time.”

Shadow Shido turned away so that they couldn’t see his expression. A cognition began forming behind him, a massive lion made of prostrated people, doused in gold. He walked away from them, ascending upwards on the backs of the people, and only once he’d reached the top did he turn back to them, arms folded. “The masses want me as their leader. I am destined to lead this country to greatness, regardless of the sacrifices that I have to make along the way. And I am not going to let a bunch of children stop me from achieving what is rightfully mine.”

The Thieves scattered into a defensive stance, and Futaba leaped into Prometheus. It was going to be the most important fight of their lives. But they knew that they could handle it. Together.

***

Leblanc was quiet when Hamuko and Shinjiro arrived, and Sojiro looked completely unhappy to see them.

“I told you to stay away from here,” he told Hamuko pointedly.

“Kurusu-kun is still alive,” Hamuko said urgently.

Sojiro raised an eyebrow. “I saw the report. I have no idea where he is, so if you’re expecting information out of me, you’re out of luck.”

“Look, we’re here because you’re his guardian. If that Shido guy’s that dangerous, he might come after you, and then what?” Shinjiro huffed. “We don’t want you to tell us anything. We’re guard dogs, right now.”

“Kirijo-san knows who I am. If she thinks I need bodyguards, she’s underestimating me,” Sojiro grumbled, but he reluctantly allowed them into the cafe. “I was going to close soon, you know.”

“You can just pretend we’re not here,” Hamuko said, frustration creeping into her voice. “Why are you so defensive around us all the time?”

Sojiro went back behind the counter to resume wiping down the mugs, throwing a disdainful look over his shoulder. “Because I have no idea what you want or what you’re planning. All I know is that you disapproved of the cognitive research before, so I have no reason to believe that you’re not going to snatch up those kids to figure out what they can do.” His voice wavered. “I know enough about what the Kirijo Group got up to, based on things Wakaba said. I know Kirijo Mitsuru isn’t her father, but I don’t trust you lot as far as I can throw you.”

“We just want to help,” Hamuko said plaintively from where she and Shinjiro had settled into a booth. “They’ve been all alone trying to figure this out; we can help them. There’s something really wrong in meta-space, and--”

But Sojiro cut her off. “I really don’t care. Stay here and play bodyguards if you must, but you’re not getting near those kids unless you can convince me that you have their best interests at heart. And dragging them into your mess when they’re already trying to deal with their own isn’t in their best interests. If there’s something ‘really wrong’, that’s the Shadow Operatives’ responsibility, not theirs.” None of those kids had enough parenting at any given moment; if he had to step in to keep the authorities off their backs, he would.

Hamuko was prepared to object, to explain that the kids were the only ones that could help at this point because they had access to meta-space. But before she could even attempt it, the door to Leblanc opened and three men in pressed black suits and sunglasses stepped inside. It was like something out of a crime thriller, as one of them approached the counter and said, “You should close up for the day.”

“Still got customers,” Sojiro said casually, and the man scowled, waving the others forward.

“Search upstairs.”

“Have you got a warrant?” Sojiro asked, still calm, and Hamuko and Shinjiro actually had to admire him for keeping his cool when someone was stomping up into the attic and rooting through his kitchen.

The man leaned over the counter. “Look, you’re an accomplice to the Phantom Thieves. We’re taking you in.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sojiro folded his arms, but stumbled as another of the men returned from the kitchen and grabbed his arm.

The third came down from upstairs. “They’re not here. I didn’t find any evidence of them, either.”

“Very well. This guy can explain where they went to Shido-san in person, I’m sure.” The main black-suited man turned, only to freeze as Hamuko and Shinjiro both got to their feet, pointing guns at them. “What the hell?”

“You’re gonna want to let him go,” Shinjiro said dangerously. “You can tell Shido-san to mind his own business.”

“And don’t even think about it,” Hamuko said, seeing a hand twitch towards a breast pocket. “We can shoot before you can get those guns you’re hiding out. Let go of him, and get out.”

Faced with two clearly trained operatives, the men reluctantly backed off. As they trailed out of the cafe, Sojiro turned to Hamuko and Shinjiro, frowning. “I could have handled that.”

“Look, we have no idea where they were going to take you, or that they’d let you go alive, whether the change of heart was successful or not,” Hamuko sighed, tucking her gun away again. “What kind of PSIA agent doesn’t carry a gun, anyway?”

“The kind that’s retired and keeps it at home, not in his quiet cafe,” Sojiro countered.

“We’re not going to be responsible for Kurusu-kun and your daughter losing their parent when we could have done something to stop it,” Shinjiro said, an edge to his voice. “Never. So no offense, but shut up and let us keep you safe.”

Sojiro eyed them, then grumbled, “Fine, I guess you can stick around. I’m going to make sure that those lackeys didn’t break anything in the attic; I’ll be back.” Leaving the two Shadow Operatives to sink back into their booth, he made his way upstairs. The attic was untouched, but he pulled out his phone and sent a message to Futaba.

_[Be careful coming home. Shadow Ops in cafe. I’m safe. Will let you know when things are clear.]_

He could only hope she read it after everything they had to do.

***

When Shido’s bizarre cognition of the masses finally collapsed, leaving him back on the Thieves’ level, they were shocked when, instead of going down in a few hits like Kaneshiro and Okumura, he seemed to get even stronger, coming at them himself in a form bulging with muscles and with madness in his eyes. They were forced to duck and dodge to avoid devastating punches, learning the hard way when Makoto took a hit right to her back and went down hard.

All of them were flagging; the battle against the masses had taken entirely too long against a shifting array of forms, and now Shadow Shido was far stronger than they were expecting too. He looked them over with a deranged smile, gaze jumping from one to the next until he found Goro.

“What do you think, Akechi?” he called. “Ready to switch sides again? You’ve certainly proven how strong you’ve become. I underestimated you. I’d be prepared to make you a key player in my new regime. All you’d have to do is help me stamp out these pathetic thieves.”

Goro said nothing, and Akira, dropped to one knee with exhaustion, struggled to read the look on his face. But then warmth flared through him, a tug in the place where he felt his bonds, stronger than usual, like…

“It’s a tempting offer,” Goro said honestly. “And the person I was months ago would have accepted without hesitation. Your trust was everything that I wanted, to allow me close enough to earn your favor and love, or end you.” He reached up to touch his mask gently. “But what I have now, I wouldn’t give up for the world!” 

_Abandoned prince of a false Camelot… I am thou, thou art I. From this moment forth, I shall be your mask. Let us ride forth into battle!_

Goro pulled the mask from his face. “I would choose him over you, every time! _Come, Mordred!_ ”

Behind Goro, a figure formed, a knight in ash-purple armor with a massive gold-hilted sword. Beneath his helmet, which swooped back into several points reminiscent of wings, his eyes glowed white in a face that dripped with black blood, as if the persona had ripped off a mask of its own. Red threads trailed from the sword, and as Akira stared in awe he recognized Robin Hood’s golden arrow on the persona’s chest, and faint stripes like Loki’s beneath the armor.

 _“Divine Judgment,”_ Goro said sharply, and Mordred pointed his sword at Shadow Shido. The Thieves watched in awe as the massive spectral gavel slammed down on him, leaving him staggering. But Goro wasn't done.

_“Salvation.”_

Energy filled them, leaving all of them feeling refreshed and ready to fight. Akira pushed himself to his feet to step up to Goro’s side, smiling. “Let's finish this.”

With their stamina restored, they could match Shido’s shadow blow for blow and then some, wearing him down a little at a time until with a final cry for a double cast of megidolaon, he fell at last. Goro walked up to him, pressing the barrel of his ray gun to his forehead shakily.

“How does it feel?” he asked. “This is what you wanted me to do to him. No mercy for those in your way, correct, Shido-san?”

“It would be what I deserve for losing the game,” Shadow Shido lamented.

“Not good enough,” Makoto snapped. “You have to face justice for the mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdowns you ordered.”

“And I believe there are things you should say to Joker and Ace,” Haru said, though her tone indicated that it wasn't a suggestion.

Shadow Shido looked up at them: the boy pointing a gun at his forehead and the one allowing it. “I manipulated my own son into murder, and I condemned your leader on false charges. I am...truly sorry. Akechi, you deserved far better.”

“Luckily for you, I found better,” Goro said, and he turned away, so only the Thieves could could see his expression waver. “Where’s the Treasure?” They’d all agreed that even though it was possible to change a heart without stealing the Treasure, Shido, of all people, deserved to feel all of that guilt and suffering. 

The glowing wheel of the ship descended from the ceiling, but before anyone could grab it, Shido’s shadow let out a ragged cry and disappeared, and the Palace began to quake violently. Everyone stumbled, and Haru cried, “What's happening?”

“Something might have happened to him in the real world!” Morgana shouted. “Grab the Treasure; we have to go before the ship sinks!”

Yusuke boosted Ann up to grab the wheel, and then all of them hurried back towards the front of the ship. They had to at least get close to the exit point to activate the nav, but despite Goro and Futaba’s best efforts, the lower hallways were already crumbling and filling with water. They were forced to backtrack to look for a way out, and eventually emerged near the top of the Diet Building as the ship tipped backwards. As Futaba wailed about not being able to swim, Akira and Ryuji eyed the one lifeboat that had survived the explosions.

“This is collapsing a lot faster than a normal Palace,” Akira said anxiously. “If we could just make it into the boat long enough to activate the nav…”

“I can get there,” Ryuji said, and Akira hesitated.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Ryuji grinned. “Yeah, I got this. I can drop off the ladder and swim to the boat after.” He braced himself on the building's tipping facade, taking a deep breath and then taking off. The Thieves watched nervously as he sprinted for the lifeboat controls, taking a flying leap and grabbing the ladder. It was a flimsy metal thing bolted to the column, but he climbed as fast as he could and yanked the control lever down.

As soon as the lifeboat hit the water, Akira and Makoto jumped down to it, Futaba safely between them. Once she was in the boat, huddled beside Makoto, Akira turned back, beckoning the rest of them down. But as Haru and Morgana jumped, another explosion tore through the boat, and the water below Ryuji’s perch was filled with flaming debris.

“Ryuji!” Ann cried, and he clung to the ladder, looking grimly determined.

Goro, the only one that hadn’t made the leap down to the boat, pulled out his gun. “Skull,” he said, knowing the other boy would be able to hear him thanks to Prometheus, “I'm going to shoot out the bolts on the ladder.”

“What?” Ryuji yelped. “What kind of trick shot is that?”

“I can do it,” Goro insisted, heedless of the explosions getting closer behind him. “You can praise my marksmanship later. Just get ready to jump when the ladder tips. You'll have to leap as far as you can.”

Ryuji nodded tensely, and Goro took aim and fired. Three of the four bolts flew off with a sharp pinging sound, and Ryuji leaned all of his weight to tip the ladder towards the lifeboat. He pushed off as hard as he could at the apex of the arc, flying out and hitting the water with a splash a few feet from his goal. He immediately started paddling, and Akira looked back up at Goro.

“Come on, jump!” he shouted.

Goro smiled, already feeling the stone rumbling beneath his feet.

_I'm sorry, Akira. You're all worth a hundred of me. Making sure you all made it out alive is the least I could do to atone for everything I've done._

Before he could move, an explosion ripped through what was left of the Diet Building, obscuring him from view. The Thieves that weren't pulling Ryuji into the boat screamed, and smoking debris tumbled towards them. Akira felt the familiar tug of the nav as they shifted back to reality, and he gasped for air as the alley materialized around them.

“Oh my god, Ryuji, I thought you were going to die!” Ann wailed, muffled into his shoulder as she hugged him.

He patted her back awkwardly. “I'm okay, I'm okay. Goro’s a heck of a shot.” He looked around, slowly realizing something wasn't right. “Wait, where's… He jumped, right?!”

Akira was tapping frantically at the nav, trying to bring the Palace back up. But the nav merely confirmed that the destination had been deleted, and he swallowed a scream, closing the nav to reach his contacts instead.

He barely registered that he had twelve missed calls, frantically bringing up Goro’s number and pressing the phone to his ear.

It went straight to voicemail, and Akira felt like he was dying.

“N-No…” he whispered. “No, no, no, not after all of this. We got him, we beat Shido, you aren’t _allowed_ \--!” His voice rose as he spoke until the last word was a yell of anguish, and Haru grabbed at his arm.

“Akira-kun, we have to be quiet, someone will think we’re suspicious,” she tried, but he shook her off to turn to Makoto.

“You shifted us back too soon!”

“I had to!” Makoto cried. “The ship was going to fall! We would have _all_ died!”

“He’s not-- He can't--” Akira could barely talk, and Ryuji got up to throw all arm around him.

“C’mon buddy, breathe.”

A meaningful look passed around the group, all of them as one deciding that they couldn't leave Akira alone right now. Futaba pulled out her phone to let Sojiro know they were going to stay at the apartment, skimming the text he'd sent her. It was concerning that the Shadow Operatives were poking around, but right now they had to focus on Akira.

She knew how badly something like this hurt.

***

When they finally got back to the apartment, no one knew what to say. Akira flopped listlessly onto his bed, phone forgotten beside him. Suddenly, though, it started ringing, and he snatched it up without looking at the display.

“Goro?!”

_“Akira? We’ve been trying to get ahold of you for hours! Where have you been? Was that you on the TV?”_

Akira felt his stomach drop as he heard his mother's voice. She was on speakerphone; he could hear the odd echo quality that gave it away, meaning his father was there listening, too. Akira swallowed hard. This was too much. Months without so much as a text, and now this?

“You’re calling now?” he said flatly. “Now, of all times?”

 _“Of course we’re calling after that stunt on TV! Kurusu Akira, was that you leading the Phantom Thieves?”_ his mother asked again, in that tone that meant she already knew the answer, and Akira choked on a laugh.

“Yeah, mom. Yeah, it was.”

He heard his mother gasp, and his father’s voice said, _“Akira, we sent you to Tokyo to keep you out of trouble. You need to explain what's going on here. We're worried.”_

He tried to picture telling them exactly how insane and wonderful and painful his year had been. About his friends, about his persona. About Mementos and the Casino, about the interrogation and how the man that had landed him here had been the apex of something they’d never be able to imagine. 

About Goro.

Something snapped, at last, some last fragment of restraint, and he laughed, bitter and cutting. “You’re worried? About me? Like you should have been back in February?” he said, not registering his friends all looking at him with concern. Not realizing it was the voice Joker used on shadows. “You’re worried now? You haven’t _called._ You haven’t _texted._ The only reason you’re calling now is because you’re worried that I’ve done something else to ruin the family’s reputation!”

_“Akira--”_

“Where was your worry when I was going to be expelled, again? Where was your worry when I was trying to stop my little sister from _dying?_ What about when I was trying to save my friend from being sold off to a monster, or trying to bring my boyfriend back from his own madness?” He was shouting into the phone, finally, finally broken enough that the words wouldn’t stop. “I nearly _died_ , mom! More than once! But you wouldn’t know any of that because you never called to see how I was doing! You never asked!”

_“Akira, you could have called us--”_

“And what?!” Akira yelled. “You wouldn’t have believed me; you didn’t believe me when I told you I didn’t assault Shido! You just went along with whatever they said in that farce of a trial! You didn’t try to fight, you didn’t try to make me feel better, nothing!”

He paused for breath, and his father began, _“What does Shido have to do with--”_

“It doesn’t matter now!” Akira cried. “It’s over, it’s done, I nearly died and my boyfriend _did_ die and I can’t deal with being told what a disappointment I am right now! Don’t call me back.”

He threw the phone at the bed, missing the ‘end call’ button in his anger, and all of them could faintly hear his parents calling for him through the tiny speakers. Haru walked over and plucked the phone up, listening for a moment before saying coldly, “Kurusu-san. Akira-kun is in no state to speak to anyone right now. If you call back, none of us will answer. Good night.” She hung up on them and set the phone aside, then sat down beside Akira, pulling him against her and running a hand through his hair. “Akira-kun, I won’t tell you it’ll be okay, but we’re here for you. We aren’t leaving.”

He was breathing like he’d run a marathon, and gradually the other Thieves crowded around as well, filling the double-bed with Akira in the center. They all knew that there was nothing they could do to make things okay. They needed time to process, time to rest, time to mourn.

All they could do was stay, and make sure that the holes in Akira’s heart didn’t swallow him up before he was ready to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **THOU HAST TURNED A VOW INTO A BLOOD OATH**   
>  **CONFIDANTE AKIRA KURUSU/GORO AKECHI**   
>  **FOOL/JUSTICE _RANK 10_**   
> 
> 
> Okay, so-- Wait, wait, guys-- _Guys_ , hold off on the screaming for one second, I just wanna say something. Just a minute. Then you can yell. I promise.
> 
> The reason this chapter is going up today instead of yesterday is because today (April 29th), is exactly one year since the first story in this series was published. And jeeze, I had no idea we’d come this far, but I just want you guys to know that I appreciate everything that you guys have done. Every last comment, every piece of art, _everything_. Two is the smallest number of people it takes to create a universe, and I have all of you. I will never stop being grateful for that.
> 
> If you’ve been here from the beginning, thanks for sticking with me this long. If you showed up later, I’m glad you joined us. It really does mean a lot that you guys like this so much, since I’ve never pretended it’s anything other than self-indulgent mush. So… thank you. And now that I’ve got you all here, time to drive the party bus into the abyss. :3
> 
> And now it’s time for a confession. There...was supposed to be art (of Mordred, and other sillier stuff) plus the obligatory over-detailed explanation of why I picked Mordred, but my laptop has decided to have a catastrophic meltdown. I’m genuinely surprised I got this done at all (seriously, I feel like someone’s cut my hands off, not being able to work consistently. The googledocs phone app is a laggy pain in the ass). I’m so sorry. I think I'm going to tentatively say updates will move to only Saturdays from now until this gets resolved, which I hope will be soon.
> 
> Next chapter: It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the conclusion of JACKFROSTQUEST2K16! _HYPE!_ ...why are you all looking at me like that?


	51. December 23rd, 2016

Akira spent the next few days in a fog. He didn’t leave the apartment and barely got out of bed, leaving his friends to stop by to bring him meals and make sure he wasn’t letting himself waste away. He was trying to make himself function, but it was hard. The loss of Goro was a wound that he hadn’t figured out how to treat so it would stop bleeding. It kept him from being concerned about much of anything else. Whether Shido’s men or the Shadow Operatives were hunting him, he couldn’t bring himself to care. They wouldn’t find him in the apartment.

Sojiro and Sae tried to talk to him, but it didn’t help. Even Shido’s eventual breakdown didn’t make him feel better, though it was at least a little satisfying to watch him grovel on national television, spouting confessions to crime after crime.

He’d apologized to ‘his son’, as well, though he didn’t name him. Akira had flipped off the screen with both hands. Too little, too late, when the one it was meant for wasn’t around to hear it.

He’d finally been forced to go outside, though, because Sae had wanted to talk to all of them. They’d met up at Ann’s apartment after making sure no one was followed, and the prosecutor had begged them for a favor, because the general public had been oddly apathetic to Shido’s confession.

“I wanted to be able to tell you that the adults could handle it from here,” she’d said, disappointment palpable in her voice. “But this is something that I know that only you can do. One last thing, and then please, leave everything to me.”

And so it was that their final heist had been decided, a grand plan to steal the Treasure of all of Tokyo. It would probably collapse the entire metaverse, but they were prepared to live with that if it meant making sure the Conspiracy was guaranteed to go down. Everyone was preparing themselves for one last run, knowing there were still a few more floors of Mementos left based on Futaba’s scans, but Akira had a different goal in mind for the day.

He’d spotted the neatly-gift-wrapped Jack Frost plushies side-by-side on the breakfast bar before leaving that afternoon, dully remembering that he’d intended to take Goro with him to deliver them. He’d tucked them into his bag, figuring he could at least go see the twins, and maybe try to let them know what had happened. So now he was walking through Shibuya, making his way past Untouchable to the blue door, and he waved halfheartedly at Caroline.

“You look awful,” she said bluntly, and he nodded.

“Feel pretty awful, too,” he replied. “I’ve got something for you and your sister, though.”

“Huh. Weird of you.” But she stepped aside to let him into the room, and he set his bag with Morgana gently on the ground, retrieving the Jack Frosts from next to him. The cat had been surprisingly quiet, trying to just be a stable presence, and Akira was grateful because he still wasn’t ready to talk. Apparently he really did look like shit, though, because Caroline didn’t even kick him, just followed along quietly as he stepped into the Velvet Room, through the transition from reality to odd blue prison.

Justine was waiting, and Igor beyond her, and the quieter of the twins scrutinized him curiously.

“Trickster?” she said softly. “You do not seem well.”

“I lost someone important to me,” Akira said, proud of himself for keeping his voice even. “He was like me, a Wild Card. I was going to bring him to visit; he helped me win these for you.” He held out the wrapped packages, and each twin took one, looking puzzled. Akira chanced a glance at Igor, but the Master of the Room didn’t seem disapproving, just amused.

As Akira sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of the cell door, Caroline frowned. “That’s ridiculous. Another Wild Card? He would have been a guest.”

“I don’t know,” Akira said quietly. “He talked about a blue space, but he said he didn’t have any help like I do.”

The twins still looked puzzled, but distracted by the prospect of gifts, they tore eagerly into their presents. When they were each holding a doll, Justine looked down at him with wide eyes. “Why did you choose these?” she asked, surprised.

Akira shrugged. “You seemed like you guys liked Jack Frost. It was the first persona on that list you made me do. And even though you were impressed that I fused the harder ones, that one seemed like it made you the most happy to see it.”

“You’re more observant than we gave you credit for,” Caroline said bluntly, but she was holding her Jack Frost tightly to her chest despite her apparent disdain for his deductions.

“It’s worth it to catch the two of you by surprise. You’re cute when you’re confused,” Akira said, punctuating the statement with a wink, and Caroline slammed her baton into the bars.

“If you keep making fun of us like that, we’ll get our big sisters to crush you, Inmate!” she snapped.

Akira blinked. The idea of older versions of Caroline and Justine was mildly terrifying. But they had never mentioned siblings before. Igor and the two of them were the only people he had ever seen in this place. “You have sisters?” he asked curiously.

“Do we…?” Justine said slowly, looking confused. “I...feel like we do, but I don’t remember…” She lifted a hand to her head, and Akira leaned forward.

“Is it one of those headaches?” They’d been getting them more frequently, ever since he’d gotten near the end of their list of tasks. When he’d finished the last one, shortly before the end of the Casino, it became clear that something was off about their memories. Akira had never been particularly comfortable in the Velvet Room, what with the prison cells and execution equipment and Igor’s unsettling stare, but he liked Caroline and Justine, and the thought that there might be something wrong with them was upsetting.

Igor’s voice cut through the tense moment, deep, but not sounding particularly concerned. “Girls? Is there a problem?”

“No,” Caroline called to him. She looked back at Akira, apparently uncertain whether to be annoyed with him or not, and finally gritted out, “Thank you. From both of us.”

“Is there anything else you need?” Justine asked, still a bit weakly, but she’d lowered her hand from her head and she was smiling, at least.

Akira pulled his knees to his chest. “There’s a new persona I want to try fusing… One last Justice persona…”

***

Yu was checking over his freshly-typed mid-term essay for one of his college classes, sitting by himself in a tiny diner in Shibuya, when his phone rang. He answered it, and barely managed to get it to his ear before he heard Hamuko asking loudly, _“Yu, where are you right now? Are you in Shibuya?!”_

“Yeah, I was finishing up a paper. What’s up?”

_“You need to get to the Velvet door, right now! He’s in the room! Literally right this second!”_

Yu’s eyes widened. As much as Hamuko got bored watching the camera, it had finally paid off in a big way. He started throwing his things into his bag, fishing out enough yen to cover his Frui-tea and leaving it on the table in his rush. Thank goodness he’d decided to come out into the city today. If he’d just stayed at the dorm, it would have taken far too long to get here. They’d have missed Kurusu Akira completely, _again_ , and Mitsuru would just get more frustrated. But now… Now they had a shot.

He hurried out of the diner, making his way down the street through the crowds and turning into the small alley that contained the airsoft shop and the Velvet door. The little attendant was missing, and there was a school bag sitting beside the door, close enough that no one would notice it while walking by. Yu approached the door slowly, half-expecting one of the kids to pop out and stop him, but all that happened was a cat with bright blue eyes poking its head out of the school bag.

“Hey, kitty,” Yu said, smiling. “Are you Kurusu-kun’s cat?”

The cat meowed, sounding alarmed and indignant, and Yu reached down to pet it. But it hissed, swiping at him, and he drew back his hand. “All right, all right. I shouldn’t get distracted anyway.” He looked back at the door as the cat meowed again, and stepped up to the bars.

Minato had described what he’d seen the few times he’d spoken to Belladonna: the strange dark haze beyond the bars that obscured the way into the Velvet Room. Yu peered at it now as he tugged at the door, which didn’t budge.

But beneath his shirt, his Orb of Sight was warm against his skin, and the haze began to clear. Yu grabbed at the doorframe, staring down the wavering hallway that was revealed. He could barely make out a figure, seated on the floor in front of another set of bars. As everything became even clearer, it was obvious that it was Kurusu, even though he was wearing a prisoner’s garb. The unfamiliar attendants stood on the opposite side of the bars from him, and beyond them, Igor was sitting at his desk.

Yu hissed in pain as the Orb _burned_ against his skin. Igor’s form wavered, the desk flickering like a bad TV picture as Yu slumped over, gripped the door even tighter from the pain. It was like it had turned to a drop of lava sitting against the surface of his skin, and he barely registered the cat staring at him as he grabbed the chain and yanked it from beneath his shirt. It glowed like a tiny star, and he forced himself to look back at the door, trying to see.

It was a blur of gold, of arms, a halo. More of an impression, rather than an actual shape, a collection of ideas with a veneer of Igor over it, fading in and out. He couldn’t look at it; it made his eyes hurt and he was already getting a headache. But beyond that, there was just an overwhelming feeling of _wrongness_ , an overbearing hammering against his mind, the urge to _stop thinking..._

He reeled back from the door, gasping for air. The Orb dimmed back to an ordinary crystal, and Yu watched the dark haze slip back into place inside the door.

Whatever _that_ had been, it wasn’t Igor. Which meant that the Velvet Room wasn’t safe. Hadn’t been safe, for who knew how long. Their new Wild Card was in trouble. He looked down with wide eyes to meet the equally shocked gaze of the cat, and said bluntly, “This is bad.”

He reached for his phone, dialing Minato. As soon as the other Wild Card picked up, he started walking towards the corner that led back to Center Street. He didn’t want to ambush the kid the second he came out. “Hey, it’s me,” he said, his voice impressively calm despite how loudly he was screaming internally. “Nanjo-san needs to figure that thing out _now_. We’ve got a problem.”

***

Akira left the Velvet Room feeling a tiny bit better. His new persona, despite the number of executions it had taken, rested safely inside his heart. Metatron, the ninth angel, burning with the force of his and Goro’s relationship. If it was all he had left of Goro, he would treasure it, keeping it close on the last run down to the heart of Mementos.

When he stepped out of the Velvet Room, though, he reached for his bag with Morgana, and the cat immediately yowled, “Akira, that guy can see the door!”

“What?” Akira said, surprised.

“The guy down there, with the silver hair, standing by the corner!” Morgana said, and Akira looked. Sure enough, there was a guy down there, leaning against the wall and typing something on his phone. He had silvery hair and eyes, and seemed to be determinedly not looking in Akira’s direction. Akira lifted a hand to his temple, pretending to adjust his glasses and peering at the stranger with his third eye. He gave off a blue aura, similar to the door, and Akira tried to keep the look of surprise off of his face.

Morgana continued, “He was looking in the door, and he seemed upset. He called somebody and said there was a problem, and then walked down there. I didn’t hear anymore; I thought it would look suspicious if I followed him.”

“It’s okay,” Akira said quietly. He slung the bag securely over his shoulder and started walking, watching the guy carefully from the corner of his eye, wary of any sudden moves. Had Goro not been the only persona-user involved in the conspiracy? Was this someone from the Shadow Operatives, here to try to take him in? Either way, Akira wanted nothing to do with him. They had a heist to pull off tomorrow, and nothing could interfere with that.

He was going to walk right past him, and run if the guy started following him. But the guy approached him first, pushing away from the wall. “Hey.”

Akira just stared at him, gripping the strap of his bag tighter. The guy put his hands up passively, taking a step forward. “My name is Narukami Yu. You’re Kurusu Akira, right? I’m with the Shadow Operatives; I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to the Shadow Operatives,” Akira said tensely.

Narukami smiled in what he probably intended to be a reassuring manner. “I know you’re probably a little wary, but if you just come with me for a little while, there’s--”

Akira didn’t wait for him to finish. He took off, shooting past him towards Center Street, hoping the crowds would slow Narukami down or at least keep him from making a scene. Morgana had ducked into his bag to stay stable as he sprinted, skills from the metaverse letting him dodge around people with a moderate amount of grace, considering his panic. He had every certainty that if he left with Narukami, he wasn’t getting away again. And tomorrow was too important. He had to make sure Shido went down, whatever they had to do. It was what Goro would have wanted.

He slowed down as they approached the station, and Morgana poked his head up. “I don’t know if he’s following us, but I don’t see him!”

Akira tried to catch his breath. “How did he know I was there? It could be just chance, that he saw the door without an attendant, but why would he wait around, then?”

“I don’t know,” Morgana said. “He didn’t say much before that phone call. He just called me a cat and said he couldn’t get distracted.” He sounded blatantly disgruntled, though Akira wasn’t sure if it was because of Narukami’s general presence or the fact that he’d called him a cat.

“It’s just one more night. We can face the Shadow Operatives afterwards if we have to, but we have to finish Mementos so that Niijima-san can take down Shido,” Akira said, quiet but urgent. “I’ll text the others. They need to be careful; he can’t be the only operative lurking around.” He pulled out his phone, calling up the group chat and trying to figure out what to say. Panic was the last thing he wanted, but the team needed to be aware.

Just a little longer. Just a little longer, and then if he had to…

He’d face the Shadow Operatives to spare his friends, if it came down to it.

***

_“Mitsuru-san? I just got outrun by the kid and his cat, and he looked_ scared. _We, uh, need to scramble everybody we can, I think, because you are not going to_ believe _what I saw in the Velvet Room…”_

***

The dorm at Iwatodai was a flurry of activity in the wake of Yu’s phone call. Everyone was packing, and Ryoji had gone to the train station to get all of them tickets for the earliest possible train to Tokyo in the morning. Minato had gotten an emergency text from the general Shadow Operatives number about twenty minutes after Ryoji left, requesting all available members and reserve members to make their way to Tokyo as soon as possible. He’d smiled to himself because they were literally already planning to go, and went back to cramming essentials into a suitcase.

“Ken, you know you don’t have to go, right?” he told the boy sitting on the other side of the bed. “There’s still a few months before you graduate. Technically you didn’t even get the text.”

Ken shook his head. “I know. But… This sounds really serious. That thing in the red fog, and the one at the music festival, they weren’t as bad as Nyx. But if something took over the Velvet Room… I feel like I need to be there. Koromaru can take care of the dorm, right buddy?” He reached up to pet the dog currently hogging Minato’s pillow, and Koromaru barked affirmatively.

“All right. I’m not going to stop you or anything.” Minato glanced up as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs at a run, and then Ryoji appeared in the doorway, his fists full of train tickets.

“Minato!”

“What?” Minato asked sharply, a sudden spike of worry filling him that something else had happened.

“I figured it out!” Ryoji said loudly. “Nanjo-san’s machine, why it’s not working, I figured it out! It’s the wrong _place!_ ” He walked properly into the room, waving his handful of tickets excitedly.

Both Minato and Ken stared at him. “What do you mean, the wrong place?” Ken asked. The Velvet siblings, having heard him running up the stairs, crowded into the doorway.

“Ryoji-kun, explain, please,” Margaret said. Elizabeth and Theodore were listening with wide eyes, unable to keep a flicker of hope from their expressions.

“Do you remember when Naoya-san told us the story about what happened with Pandora?” Ryoji said, his eyes bright with excitement. “They could open a door to her heart world with the DEVA system, and then later in Sumaru, Maya-san explained that they could cross back and forth from Ameno Torifune, too, with a smaller version of the same. But everything was weaker then; meta-space had been pulled closer to reality because of _his_ influence. But they went into the Sea of Souls just one time without help!”

Minato’s eyes widened. “Reality is back to normal, but Alaya Shrine is a natural weak point. That’s what you’re saying?”

Elizabeth gasped. “So if Nanjo-san were to take his recreation of the DEVA system to Alaya Shrine, instead of testing it in his lab, it would be able to open a way to the Sea?”

“It’s just a guess, but it’s the best one we’ve got,” Ryoji said. “We need to call him and make sure he hasn’t already left for Tokyo.”

Minato pulled out his phone. “I’ll call him. Ken, I want you to still go to Tokyo. If things get bad, they’ll need help. Ryoji… Go exchange five of those tickets for ones to Mikage-cho. We’re going to the Sea.”

Ryoji grinned, lifting a hand in a salute before ducking between Margaret and Theodore and disappearing in the direction of the stairs. Minato stared at his half-packed suitcase, then at the others, and took a very deep breath. “Are all of you ready to go?”

“I am,” Ken confirmed.

“We are, as well,” Theodore said.

Minato chewed his lip. “What happens if we can reach the Sea?”

“We can only aim for the distortion and open a door. There is no guarantee of accuracy, so we may have to fight our way through part of Mementos to reach a Velvet door,” Elizabeth explained. “But we can do it, Minato. We can get to the Velvet Room that way.”

The Velvet Room, for real, for the first time in almost three years. It was overwhelming for several reasons, not the least of which because apparently _Igor wasn’t Igor_. The implications of that were terrifying. He’d heard Belladonna’s voice, but that didn’t guarantee that she or Nameless or Lavenza or even Igor were safe. In fact, she had told him that it _wasn’t_ safe. In hindsight, he should have known. What did it mean, that something was pretending to be Igor?

Igor had always seemed invincible. Constant. All the residents did.

What would it mean, if something had happened to them?

He shook his head. One thing at a time. For now, they just had to concentrate on getting hold of Nanjo, getting to Mikage-cho, and getting everyone else to Tokyo. Hope was something they had precious little of these days, but all they could do was believe. Believe that this was going to work. Believe they would be able to handle whatever crisis was coming.

He looked down at the phone, and dialed Nanjo. It was time to finally take action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the Jack Frosts went over really well. I’m glad we were finally able to resolve this very important subplot. I’m sure everyone is content now. ^_^
> 
> ...so yeah. This is how we’re doing this. It’s going to be interesting from now on trying to lay everything out, because a lot of people are going to be doing a lot of things in a very short time frame. So hopefully everything turns out coherent, because, well…
> 
> Christmas is coming. ;)
> 
> Gonna link my [Hours tag](http://twilightknight17.tumblr.com/tagged/Hours!verse) again, because aside from a truly glorious meme that I wasted my time on, my dad’s computer wizard friend fixed my laptop, so that means I got to finish that art of Mordred at last and do my obligatory giant write-up, so there’s that.
> 
> Next chapter: You all have been so patient, and it’s finally time to head for the Depths of Mementos. Everything is converging at last. ...sort of...


	52. December 24th, 2016 (1)

Mikage-cho was a nice district.

Minato had only been there a few times and was usually distracted, but the people seemed friendly enough. Unlike in Iwatodai, however, having the three pale-haired and golden-eyed Velvet siblings with him did garner some puzzled looks from the few people out during the morning. Back at home, the strange trio had long been accepted as his rather odd cousins; this district hadn’t had time to acclimate to them in the same way. The weapons, even wrapped into suspiciously lumpy packages that they were taking turns carrying, probably weren’t helping either. But Minato just held Ryoji’s hand tighter as they walked towards the shrine from the station, hoping desperately that this wild spark of inspiration was the answer they’d been looking for.

Alaya Shrine was quiet, and all five of them paused on the sidewalk leading to the entrance. They could all tell that this place was special.

Margaret lifted a hand to her mouth, looking at the ground. “I can feel the Sea,” she said, sounding a touch choked up, and Ryoji laid his free hand on her shoulder.

“It’ll get stronger once we’re in the cavern,” he said. “You guys have been cut off for a long time.”

“Far too long,” Elizabeth said. She was the first to start walking again, determination filling every step, and the rest of them trailed behind her. The shrine was empty, and they passed through and entered the cavern with only the sound of their footsteps and the quiet dripping of water. None of them had ever been in Alaya Cavern, but the walls of blue-grey stone held a familiar feeling nonetheless, the sense of metaspace lurking just beneath the surface.

“In the world of Maki-san’s heart, Alaya Cavern led directly into the Sea, a breach from a personally constructed area into the greater collective unconscious,” Theodore said, looking around at the glimmering stalactites. “But in the real world, the barrier between the worlds is still thin enough that this should work. Now that we’re here, it’s easy to tell.”

They found Kei in the deepest room of the cavern, with an area already marked off and the electronics assembled. He was alone, and Minato asked curiously, “You don’t have anyone else here, Nanjo-san?”

Kei shook his head. “I had help assembling it, but I sent them away in case having those who are not persona-users around did something to interfere.” He looked them all over, nodding to himself. “You five, then. Five is a suitable number for a main team, I believe. That was the way that we worked, and it served us well.”

“Have you heard from the others?” Ryoji asked.

“I have,” Kei said, walking over to adjust one of the tripods circling the center of the floor. “Naoya and Maki left first thing this morning. I know for a fact that Maya is on her way, and I believe Yukino is with her. We can probably count on Ulala and Baofu as well, if they aren’t in the middle of a job, and I think Eriko is on her way, too.” He hummed thoughtfully. “It’s hard to say, for some of us. Reiji and Yuka have families now; I wouldn’t blame them for choosing to focus on keeping their children safe instead of sprinting headlong into danger. We aren’t Philemon’s chosen anymore, not really, and I think all of us subconsciously know that we won’t be the ones who can end this.”

“No, that will be Kurusu-kun, if he ever stops running away from us,” Ryoji sighed.

Kei stifled a laugh. “Mitsuru-san did mention Narukami-kun’s failure on that front. What was he thinking?”

“When he spoke to me, he indicated that he thought Kurusu-kun would be intrigued by someone who also knew about the Velvet Room, not afraid,” Margaret said.

“Yeah, but he’s also been dealing with weird adults and police and people that want to capture him for who knows how long,” Ryoji pointed out. “Max charm’s not necessarily enough to counter that kind of fear.”

“He’s right to be wary,” Theodore said quietly. “We have no idea what that imposter has been telling him.”

That sombered the mood quickly, and Kei gestured to the marked area on the floor. “We may as well try this, then. It’s our last chance. If this doesn’t work, I will bring you all to Tokyo with me.”

They took their places in the center of the machine. Minato held onto Ryoji with one hand and Elizabeth with the other, his grip tight. He was afraid to speak, afraid to hope, because if this went wrong they would be at a terrible disadvantage. But he wasn’t going to let any of those children die if he could help it, and when Kei made eye contact, he nodded stiffly. It was the moment of truth.

Kei entered a command on the control panel, and the tripods surrounding the circle began to glow. There was a brilliant flash that forced him to shield his eyes, and when he could look again, all five of them were gone, leaving just an empty circle.

There was no guarantee they had reached the Sea. There were no guarantees of anything, at this point, but there was nothing more he could do from here. Kei pulled out his phone, sent a message to his waiting scientists to come pack up the equipment, and then headed for the entrance to the cavern.

He had a train to catch.

***

A shriek of joy echoed across the star-scattered landscape as the small team realized that after all of their patience, it had _worked._

Minato and Elizabeth were jumping up and down, yelling with absolute glee. Ryoji had frozen mid-yell, startled by Minato being so lively, and was trying desperately to get his phone camera open to take a picture. Theodore got there just as he managed it, so Ryoji ended up with a picture of all three of them, Theodore’s arms wrapped around them both and all of them yelling at the top of their lungs. The sound stretched in all directions, filling the endless expanse of stars with concentrated happiness.

“Calm down, all of you,” Margaret said, but her attempt at a stern tone was ruined by the relieved smile on her face. “We still have a job to do. We have to reach Mementos, and free our master.”

Elizabeth squirmed away from Theodore and Minato and threw out a hand, calling up a door. Their footsteps rippled as they approached, and she grinned. “All we have to to is keep jumping closer to the distortion until we hit it. It is a long way from Mikage-cho to Tokyo in the real world, but we have our own methods. We will arrive before you know it!”

***

_Everything was so quiet. What had woken him?_

_The faint hum of music was just soft enough that he couldn’t follow the tune, but it was soothing nonetheless. He was so tired… It was so easy to just drift. Being awake meant dealing with pain, with thinking, and he didn’t want to._

_He’d done what he could, after all. That’s what the voice had said. He could sleep now. Everything would be fine, because in the end, he’d done what he was meant to._

***

It was a somber mood in the Morgana bus, as they headed down the last few floors of Sheriruth. Futaba claimed they were near the bottom, but that there was something else down there, so Makoto was doing her best to avoid as many unnecessary fights as possible. They’d only been able to get so many supplies from Takemi. It wasn’t a question of money, either; she literally didn’t have any more to give them. 

Haru was riding shotgun, with Ann, Yusuke, and Ryuji in the middle row, ready to jump out and fight if anything did decide to tangle with them. And in the backseat, Futaba kept tabs on their progress, as their leader snored quietly beside her. Akira hadn’t slept much the night before, despite Morgana’s best efforts. It was impossible to stop thinking, wondering if the Shadow Operatives had some way to track him, wondering if he was going to wake up and find himself ambushed, taken away, dragged off to another interrogation. It was only surrounded by his friends and in the metaverse where no one could get to him that he finally felt safe enough to doze off, and all of them had quietly agreed to leave him like that as long as possible, supporting him half-awake down the escalators and then putting him back in the bus for the next floor.

Even what little he had slept had been restless and unnerving. He’d been called to the Velvet Room, and Igor had insinuated that it was too late to do anything. That the masses that no longer believed in the Phantom Thieves were too distorted to be saved. Even Caroline and Justine had been caught off-guard by the declaration, and that just made it worse. Akira was scared enough as it was, though he would never admit it. To have his wardens be nervous too… It wasn’t a good feeling.

The shadows were oddly docile as they went deeper, and the sounds of the trains that rumbled away behind the walls grew more frequent. The platform at the bottom of Sheriruth had trains rolling by what seemed like every ten or twenty seconds; the Thieves could hear them even from the top of the escalator, as they all piled out of the bus and Yusuke gently shook Akira awake. Their leader grumbled, but one thing they had all learned was how powerful cognition truly was, and a thermos of Sojiro’s best coffee was enough to get him properly awake and on his feet like a magic elixir.

“Are you all right?” Morgana asked. His eagerness to keep going was plain to see, and Akira nodded, adjusting his mask.

“This is it, right? The last platform,” he said. “We’ll finally know what’s beyond the final door.”

“Mona’s memories, hopefully,” Ryuji said offhandedly, but they all nodded in agreement, and together the Phantom Thieves of Hearts descended the final escalator.

The door at the end of the last platform opened easily at Akira’s touch, and they tentatively descended further down. The sign referred to the last area as Iweleth, and all of them stopped with surprise at the sheer size of the room. It was finally the train station, where all the shadow-trains had been coming all along, and an even larger door waited at the end of the room.

The shadows paid them no mind, and they joined the crowd, slipping through the large door and finding a way around another door beyond. It left them staring down into an impossible chasm that led even farther down, and Ann wrung her hands.

“What kind of distortion even is this?” she asked. “It doesn’t even look like anything real anymore. And aren’t those the pipes from the higher floors? Have they been running down here all this time?”

Yusuke frowned. “I have been meaning to say...they look a bit like...veins. Perhaps feeding something deeper within the depths.”

Haru shivered at the mental image. “How deep does Mementos really go?” she asked. “If this were reality, we’d be miles down by now, wouldn’t we?”

“Maybe we shoulda gone the other way some time,” Ryuji sighed.

Makoto folded her arms, puzzled. “The other way?”

“Yeah. When we first came here, we were up on the surface and came down here after,” Ryuji explained. “But there’s like, a whole empty city up there, because all the shadows’re down here.”

Futaba shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now,” she said, double-checking the map. “We can’t get back through that door. We’re stuck down here ‘til we collapse the Palace.”

That was unnerving, and as they decided to ride the bus down into the depths to save time, all of them carefully avoided voicing the thought that maybe, just maybe, there wouldn’t be a way out this time.

***

_Why couldn’t he rest?_

_Even though he’d been promised sleep, it refused to come. Why? He wasn’t needed. He’d played his part. The voice had promised. But maybe it wasn’t need, but want? There was a feeling in his chest, faint, but growing stronger. It was something important… Someone needed him, wanted him?_

_He tried to sit up, his clothes ragged and baggy on his frame. Everything ached and it was so hard, but he felt like he had to try. There was a sliver of light in his little space, and he looked down at himself, at raw, freshly-healed skin and prisoner’s garb._

_A prisoner? No, he was safe here._

_Right?_

***

The group making their way across the Sea of Souls wove through door after door, moving closer and closer to the feeling of distortion Mementos gave off. But as Elizabeth formed the next door, Minato felt a tug against his his awareness, and spun to look, trying to see where it was coming from.

There was a figure standing there watching them. Minato stared back, curious, and took a tentative step towards the unfamiliar man.

“Minato-san?” Margaret asked when she realized he wasn’t trying to be the first through the next door. When she looked to see where he had gone, though, her hands flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp.

Theodore and Elizabeth just gaped in wide-eyed wonder, while Ryoji looked just as confused as Minato. The man smiled, looking only at Minato, and held out a hand. He was holding a knife in a worn leather sheath, and he nodded to the Universe.

_“Take it,”_ he said, and his voice echoed faintly, like he was on the other side of glass. _“A weapon born of rumors, carried to journey’s end, broken and reforged to a new form.”_ He chuckled, his brown eyes warm as Minato reached out to tentatively accept the knife. _“Rumor has it, it was used to defeat the manifestation of all evil.”_

Minato’s eyes widened. “Are you--”

Before he could finish, the man closed Minato’s fingers around the knife and stepped back, leaving it with him. _“It’s imbued with a strength that banishes ruin. Please, give it to our new Trickster. Don’t let the world I left fall to pieces.”_

“I… I won’t,” Minato said shakily, and with a final smile, the man turned and walked away, vanishing into the Sea.

He drew the knife, looking over the dark metal and carefully sharpened edge before turning to the attendants. “How?” he asked softly, slipping the weapon back into the sheath.

“Meta-space is growing increasingly unstable…” Margaret said, choking a bit. “I...didn’t realize that the Misericorde still existed… Or that he was still alive. L-Lady Belladonna and Nameless will be happy…” She turned away, dabbing at her eyes, and Minato tucked the weapon away carefully and nodded to Elizabeth. They had to keep going, but this… Even knowing that the divides between the collective unconscious and reality were weakening… This brought hope.

***

The Depths of Mementos turned out to be a prison. The shadows of Tokyo’s people had willingly been walking in, leaving themselves unable to get out. Even the people whose Palaces the Thieves had collapsed were there, speaking of the relief they felt at no longer having to think for themselves. They wanted to stay there, ‘safely’ behind the bars, protected from whatever outside influences could disturb them. Everywhere they went, the same red veins crawled over the walls, pulsing with eerie light, weaving between cells and into cracks like some vast living thing had sunk itself into the very foundations.

It was frightening, but it explained so much of people’s lax reactions to Shido’s arrest. They were accepting the easy answer, that Shido had had some sort of emotional breakdown from stress, that the Phantom Thieves were just a story. It was like a fog had fallen over them, but far worse, because they had willingly locked themselves away.

And between running from the guards, dealing with the endless melancholy whispers around them, and disabling security to go farther, Morgana was remembering, gradually, that he had apparently come from the prison as well. As they went deeper and deeper, even the familiar blue of the disabled traps wasn’t enough to stop them from growing more and more uncomfortable. The veins on the walls grew thicker, and seemed to be almost attached to the cells, as if they were draining the people inside.

Finally, deep within the Depths, they stumbled on a door unlike the others.

“This is the quarantine cell that the shadows above spoke of,” Yusuke said quietly. “Supposedly the most wicked inmate is kept imprisoned within.”

Morgana’s eyes had gone wide, and Akira was certain that if he had a human body, he would be pale as a sheet. He stepped up next to him, concerned. “Mona? Is everything all right?”

“I…” Morgana said quietly. “This is...familiar. I was...born here.”

“You were born in the prison?” Ann gasped.

“Were they keeping you trapped here?” Haru asked, horrified.

Morgana shook his head. “No… I was never imprisoned, but… He made me here. To help all of you. Because things aren’t supposed to be like this.” His tone was tentative, questioning, like he still wasn’t quite sure that what he was saying was correct. “My memory is still so fuzzy. I was asleep for a long time, but then he woke me up to be your guide…”

“Who did?” Akira knelt, uncertain what to say or how to help.

Morgana hissed with frustration. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry…”

Akira patted his head, just once, and got back up. “It’s okay. I’m sure it will come back if we keep going.”

“So are we gonna break into that cell?” Ryuji asked, already bringing his bat up to rest on his shoulder. “Seems important, and if it’s the ‘worst prisoner’, it’s prolly somebody that’ll help us.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Makoto began, but before they could even begin to wonder where to start, an entire squadron of guards entered from the other end of the room, and they were forced to run before they could get surrounded. It became obvious once they saw what lay ahead that they were close to their goal, and collapsing Mementos would free the isolated prisoner as well, so instead of attempting to double back they pushed onwards towards the strange, coliseum-type building in the distance. The final area of the Depths was vast, filled with strange formations that looked uncomfortably like bones and spines, and as they approached what they assumed was the Treasure chamber, they all looked at each other fearfully.

“This place gives off a terrible aura…” Yusuke said.

“We can’t freak out now,” Ryuji said. “We have to keep going!”

“Leader?” Haru asked.

Akira took a breath. “There are no other paths. This is the last place. All we have to do is take the Treasure, and bring the public to their senses.” He beckoned to his team, and they fell into step behind him. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts were prepared to finish their final mission, despite their own fear.

When they reached the Treasure, it was a massive cup, surrounded by rings and rings of cells. Akira was uncomfortably reminded of the cells that ringed his own Velvet Room, but the immediate problem distracted him from pondering it too far. The Treasure was massive; there was no way that they would be able to carry it out, but Ryuji’s suggestion to destroy it was quickly accepted, and as Futaba put it:

“Hey, at least it’s not as tall as Lord Zero was.”

But the prisoners around them cried out, and the veins attached to the Treasure pulsed with light and life as the Thieves struggled to attack it. It grew brighter and brighter, turning from dull to shiny gold, and finally, it _spoke_.

**“Foolish children who seek to challenge the desires of humanity…”** it said. **“I am revered as a bringer of dreams, the being known as the Holy Grail. You seek to destroy me despite the masses' wishes?”**

“The Treasure is talking,” Makoto said, unable to do anything more than state the obvious in her shock.

Futaba was already trying to run a new scan, and Akira just stared at the massive Grail, something nagging at his memory desperately. The voice was booming, echoing, distorted, but it felt _familiar_ , and he could feel the beginnings of a dread that he couldn’t explain filling his heart.

_Be strong, my thief. Now is not the time for panic._ Arsene’s reassuring voice cut through the static feeling of hysteria that had threatened to well up, and Akira swallowed hard.

**“The collective desire of humanity is to remain in the Prison of Regression, to surrender their cognition to me and give up their power. Your attempts to enact change are in vain.”**

“What the hell?” Ryuji shouted, and it was clear that the other Thieves echoed the sentiment. He called his persona, sending a bolt of lightning at the Grail, but the veins pulsed again and Futaba gasped.

“It’s draining strength and will from the prisoners and using it to maintain itself,” she said. “This could go on forever!”

“Then we just have to attack faster than it can recover,” Yusuke snapped, and as one, the Thieves leaped into motion, throwing what they could at it.

The Grail let out a black chuckle. **“The Heart of Humanity has distorted into a prison. You fight so hard to salvage them, when the only suitable end is to perish within the prison that they created for themselves.”**

“No! We won’t let that happen!” Ann yelled, striking out with fire. Morgana was right beside her, wind whipping the fire into an even greater frenzy, but the Grail only gleamed brighter as it continued to draw on the imprisoned citizens. And all around them, the people continued to cry out in objection, begging and demanding them to stop trying to destroy the Holy Grail.

“It’s for their own good,” Futaba said, sending an all-kaja across the battlefield. “They can’t keep worshipping this...this thing!” She was grounded for once, Prometheus high above her, rotating like a beacon in the red-tinted room.

But they couldn’t keep up. The Grail continued to heal, and the prisoners chanted for the Thieves to stop, to leave, to disappear.

**“Idiots, blinded by your overzealous ‘justice’... I cannot perish so long as people continue to desire my existence. This is the will of mankind, that has fallen into sloth.”**

“I refuse to believe that!” Morgana shouted. “The humans that I believe in aren’t like that! They won’t turn their backs on a painful reality; they’ll fight to change things for the better! We’ll keep fighting! We won’t let you fool us or manipulate these people any longer! We won’t go back to how we were!”

If it weren’t for the fact that they were clearly fighting an oversized cup, Akira could have sworn the Grail was looking down on them with disdain.

**“Foolish, barely-awakened Hope…”** it drawled. **“I merely grant the wishes of humanity. And now it is time to fulfill that wish and abandon this place, and bring their wishes to reality itself.”**

“What the fuck?!” Ryuji yelped as the Grail began to glow.

“We won’t let you do this!” Morgana shouted.

**“Offer your hearts to me, and repent your sins. The time for fusion has come…!”**

There was a tremendous flash, the beam of the Grail’s attack cutting across the floor towards them, and even though they tried to bunch together and block as best they could, the world blurred out in a glow of white and the floor fell away beneath them, leaving them to drop into the abyss with a scream.

***

When awareness returned, they were standing on the sidewalk in Shibuya, overwhelmed.

“Did it force us out?” Ann was already pulling out her phone, trying to check.

“We have to go back,” Akira said. “That… That thing is…” He couldn’t explain the terror creeping over him, he just knew that something was exceptionally wrong. Something had been wrong all along. But then Futaba lifted her hands up, looking around in confusion, and all of them felt panic crawling up their spines as they realized that it was _raining blood_.

All around the city, people that knew the Thieves looked around in fear and shock as bonelike structures burst from the streets, filling the sky as everything gained an ominous red tint from the rain. The Shadow Operatives, scattered around different areas and ready to act, all looked to the sky as one. Mitsuru looked around at all the citizens, going about their lives as if nothing was amiss, and gripped her rapier tighter. They could only hope Minato and Ryoji could free the Velvet Room, and maybe it would help. Because what kind of fight could they have against the world itself becoming Hell?

And everywhere, there were normal conversations. Life went on. And people brushed off the Phantom Thieves as a story. A fanciful thing, but no more real than any other work of fiction.

Ann was about to activate the nav when her phone slipped from her fingers, hitting the ground with a crash.

“Ann? What’s wrong?” Yusuke asked, but their attention was pulled in another direction as Futaba swayed and stumbled, sinking to her knees. Akira was beside her in a moment, trying to support her, and could only watch in horror as his team slowly collapsed one by one to the sidewalk.

“What’s happening?” Makoto gritted out. “Is this the Grail’s doing too?”

Ryuji yelled then, and all of them felt fear grip their hearts as they realized _his hand was disappearing._

“What’s going on?!” Ann shrieked, realizing her hand was fading away as well. Haru couldn’t even speak, only able to manage shallow, panting breaths as she watched her own arms disappear. Futaba tried to clutch onto Akira, her expression twisted with anguish and fear.

Morgana wasn’t immune either, though he struggled to get to each of them before slumping to the pavement. “No…” he whispered. “If Mementos and reality have merged, cognition is in control. If the public doesn’t believe the Phantom Thieves exist…”

“We’re gonna cease to exist?” Futaba exclaimed weakly.

“M-Morgana, what did we do wrong?” Makoto whimpered, tears running down her face.

Morgana’s eyes were wide with terror. “Is this my fault…? I took all of you down there… I…”

“Of course it’s not your fault!” Akira objected, but he overbalanced and slammed into the concrete hard as Futaba literally vanished from his grip. “No!”

One by one, they were disappearing, and he reached for Morgana, who said weakly, “I’m sorry. This was a failure. I didn’t mean to--” He disappeared as well, and Akira rolled onto his back, staring up into the bleeding sky and wondering if this was what it was like to die. He could feel his vision going black, and slowly, slowly, everything was gone.

***

_Pulling, tugging, a reason to be awake, needed, wanted, get up, get up, he needs you, get up, it’s not over!_

_Wake, or he will use you against him!_

_Get up!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, several months ago: “Oh, hey, that’s a weird detail.”  
> Me, now: “I am taking artistic liberties. The small details are _mine_. Up yours, Atlus, because you didn't want them.”
> 
> And I’m sure half of you have no idea what I’m on about. Yay. Just remember that questions are allowed. XDD
> 
> This was kind of ugh to get through because so much of the Prison is the same, but it didn't feel right pacing-wise to just leave it out completely? I dunno. Bleh. Plus there is no way that I can express the sheer terror of them vanishing from cognition as well as the original scene did. X''D But, what's done is done and here we are and now this is out of the way and I can focus on actually doing this.
> 
> Good lord do I hate fight scenes and that is all that's coming. Here we go again. XDDD
> 
> Next chapter: [To the leader, the pariah, the victim, the messiah...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6YAn8KwnjNM)


	53. December 24th, 2016 (2)

Hell on Earth shouldn’t be a familiar sight to most people, but the Shadow Operatives, both standard and reserve members, weren’t ‘most people’.

“Never thought we’d be doing this again,” Ulala commented, adjusting her gloves as blood continued to rain from the sky around them. “Thought once we’d kicked Nyarly’s ass, things would be mostly small-scale. Even Astria’s freaking out.”

“It would be stupid to assume there weren’t other things out there that could cause a disruption on this scale,” Baofu said dryly from her left. “Not that it’s not upsetting either way.”

“According to Iori-kun and Takeba-chan, it’s spreading,” Maya said. “It’s only been half an hour, and the area that’s turned into...well, _this,_ is getting bigger.” She drew her guns, as people walked around them obliviously. Whatever was keeping the general public ignorant to the state of their city was keeping them from perceiving the weapons as well.

Shadows were beginning to rise from the streets around them, dripping as they emerged from beneath the red liquid pooling everywhere, and she grinned. “Kirijo-san was pretty clear: for now, we do what we can to keep as many people safe as we can. So let’s go whoop some ass!”

***

In Akihabara, Naoto had met up with Yukari and Junpei as they returned from the outskirts of Tokyo. Even carrying Feather Pink’s exact weapon didn’t garner them any attention from bystanders, and Junpei shook his head.

“This is definitely getting worse. If we don’t do something, it’s gonna get past the edges of Tokyo and start covering the rest of the world too.”

“We don’t know how far the being in the Velvet Room can reach,” Naoto said. “There’s a chance that it cannot achieve complete dominion from here. But if we allow it to gain a foothold, it could then reach out to other major population centers.”

Yukari turned, loosing an arrow into a forming shadow and gritting her teeth. “We need to keep fighting, then, so we can buy enough time to figure out how to stop it.”

“No one knows what happened to the Phantom Thieves. No one’s seen them ye--”

There was a scream from farther down the street, and all of them jumped into action at once. An Abbadon was chasing a little kid, oozing along behind him, and they charged in without hesitation. Naoto pulled out her gun and fired, but it became obvious immediately that it was absorbing the damage.

“Shit!” Junpei fumbled his evoker. “Trismegistus! _Agidyne!_ ”

Thank goodness whatever was happening to Tokyo allowed them to summon their personas. Fire roared around the shadow, and Yukari jumped in to follow up with wind. Together the three of them managed to destroy it, and then Yukari turned to the boy, who was staring at them with wide eyes.

“W-What was that?” he stammered. “You have powers! Like superheroes!”

“You can see all of this?” Yukari asked incredulously.

The kid nodded. “T-The Phantom Thieves are going to stop this. I know they will. Are you helping them?”

“We’re trying, kid,” Junpei said wryly. “We’re the Shadow Operatives. We fight monsters like this all the time.” 

He grinned as the kid’s eyes got even bigger, but then all of them were caught off-guard as the boy demanded, “I want to help, too! The Phantom Thieves helped me out; I want to help you fight!”

“It’s too dangerous,” Naoto objected immediately. “You saw that monster. There are even worse things out there. You need to go home and keep yourself safe.”

“I taught the leader of the Phantom Thieves how to shoot!” the kid yelled. “I can do it!”

They all looked at each other, puzzled, and then Yukari shrugged. “Naoto-kun, don’t you carry an extra gun?”

“Yukari-chan! He’s in elementary school!”

“Ken-kun was, too, and he took care of himself just fine,” Yukari replied. “We can at least let him protect himself. If he goes home, no one’s going to believe what he can see.”

Naoto looked reluctant, but pulled a second handgun from the inside of her jacket and handed it to him. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Oda Shinya,” the kid said, and as another shadow came around a nearby corner he lifted the gun with hands that only shook a little and put a bullet through its face, much to the shock of the adults.

Yukari nodded, impressed, as that basically decided everything. “Welcome aboard, Shinya-kun. Let’s go make sure people are safe.”

***

Closer to the Scramble, Yu had caught up with Mitsuru, Fuuka, Hamuko, and Shinjiro. Yosuke was a step behind him, and he called urgently, “How are we doing? Where is everyone?”

“Akihiko, Chie, and Yukiko are in Shinjuku,” Hamuko said, leaning on her naginata and never taking her eyes off the crowds around them. “They’ve found a couple of people who can see this mess and they’re keeping them safe. Naoya-san, Maki-san, and Yukino-san are heading for Kanda. Nanjo-san’s on his way, still, and Teddie, Kanji, and Marie are going to meet up with Ken at Inokashira and move on to Harajuku.” They were trying to cover as many major public places as possible, but there were only so many of them, and only so much they could do. The only advantage they had was that the public wasn’t seeing their weapons.

“I’ve sent Kirishima-san to meet up with them as well,” Mitsuru added. “She called me from the train.”

“Thank goodness the trains are still running,” Yu sighed.

“Agreed, or we might not have been here in time.”

Yu turned to look, and his eyes widened as both Dojima _and_ Nanako approached from across the Scramble. “Uncle? Nanako?!”

“I called him,” Mitsuru said. “He deserved to know what was going on.”

“And you brought Nanako into this?” Yu wasn’t sure what the emotion he was feeling was, but it wasn’t good.

Nanako scowled, and Yu realized abruptly that she was holding a smaller replica of the bow that Yukari carried. “I’m helping too, Onii-chan. I’m not gonna be left behind anymore! Mina-niichan’s cousins are my friends, too!” Behind her, Dojima shook his head helplessly.

“She wouldn’t let me leave without her.”

“She’s _twelve!_ ” Yu said sharply, and Mitsuru just raised an eyebrow.

“Amada-kun was younger than that when he started with S.E.E.S.. She may not be a persona-user, but I imagine that with Yukari’s training, she’s capable in her own right.” Mitsuru turned to Nanako. “You will stay with two of us at all times, is that understood, Nanako-chan?”

Nanako saluted. “Yes ma’am, Mitsuru-senpai!”

Yu got ready to object again, but Mitsuru turned to Shinjiro. “Who have we not heard from?”

Shinjiro counted out on his fingers. “Ayase-san isn’t coming. She’s got kids, and she lives up north now. Uesugi-san and Kido-san never answered. Inaba-san and Rise-chan are abroad…” He frowned. “And Suou-san is ready to step in if we need him.”

Mitsuru nodded, looking around at the group. “We need to split up. The distortion is centered here in Shibuya, we need to cover as much ground as we can. Groups of two or three, at minimum.”

Aigis and Labrys appeared from a side-street, looking a little scuffed but no worse for wear. “Mitsuru-san, the bonelike formations leading to that central temple appear to be the source of the shadows. Whatever is causing this is in that center area,” Aigis said, and Labrys nodded quickly in agreement.

“I can confirm that,” Fuuka said from where she was inside Juno, keeping track of everyone’s movements. “The reading I’m getting from in there is so much stronger than the rest of the city. That’s not something I would recommend fighting. Even with all of us...”

Yu swallowed hard. “Are you saying it’s like when you fought Nyx?” he asked weakly.

“It’s hard to say,” Fuuka said. “But as we are now… I don’t know if we could do this.”

Mitsuru stared up at the massive temple. “...Minato and Ryoji have another hour, and then we just have to go on our own. Even if it’s hopeless, we can’t let the city fall like this without at least trying.” She waved them all to spread out around Shibuya, keeping vigil beside Fuuka as she continued to provide support to the various groups. The Dark Hour had been a nightmare, but at least it was a familiar nightmare.

This was truly Hell.

***

Inside Mementos, Elizabeth charged a crowd of shadows, swinging her battleaxe in a wide arc. The crowd of Mandrakes burst, quickly beheaded by her enthusiasm, and as she recovered her balance Theodore lifted the pistol he was carrying and blew away a Pyro Jack in a single shot.

When they’d finally managed to enter the distorted subway, they’d found themselves in a twisting blue maze of tunnels. All Minato knew was that they needed to go upwards, but it was easier said than done. The tunnels followed no rhyme or reason, and each floor was a struggle to explore and locate the escalator that led upwards. And while the shadows were the weaker sort that dwelled closer to the border with Reality, they were bizarrely aggressive, and there were a _lot_.

Ryoji and Minato moved together, swords flashing with Margaret a step behind. They’d brought little in the form of supplies, so they forced themselves to conserve their personas, slashing their way through the hellish dungeon.

“Go, go, go!” Ryoji called, pointing to an opening in a crowd of Pixies, and they ran for it. They’d finally found what looked like a train platform, lacking the blue tint of lower floors, and all of them could just _feel_ that they were getting close.

Margaret’s rapier flashed in the low light, driving straight into a Slime’s forehead as it tried to get in the way, and it burst and cleared the path ahead. Another corner, and they finally spotted the escalator leading upwards.

It led to an area that was clearly an entrance, with a ticket gate, a closed door, and the long-awaited Velvet door. But Ryoji and Elizabeth took a moment to kick in the closed door, ascending the staircase behind it for one last look around. They returned looking worried.

“I am...no longer sure if that is reality, but if it is, blood appears to be raining from the sky,” Elizabeth said tentatively.

“We can worry about that afterwards,” Minato said, looking at the door, unattended and waiting.

Theodore was the first to approach. It was barred, but not blocked, and opened under the touch of an attendant like it was nothing. Theodore looked back at all of them, the faintest hint of anxiety in his expression. “We...don’t know what we will find in there, do we?”

“Someone impersonating our master, that needs to pay,” Elizabeth said, hefting her axe.

“Our family,” Margaret said, quieter, but with no less determination.

Ryoji reached for Minato’s hand with his free one, and together they stepped towards the door. Minato took one last deep breath, and said firmly, “Let’s go.”

Without another word, or another moment’s hesitation, they stepped through the door.

***

His head felt unbearably woozy, like he’d been unconscious for a long time. Akira blinked blearily, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes, and paused in confusion at the weight on his wrists. He sat up in alarm, looking down at the familiar shackles on his hands and feet, and realized he was in the Velvet Room, on the narrow cot in his little cell.

He couldn’t bring himself to get to his feet yet, but he knew Caroline and Justine were standing by the door, and that Igor was sitting at his desk beyond them. Even as he hung his head and tried to get his bearings, he heard the Master of the Room’s voice, an undercurrent of disappointment laced through it.

“It seems your rehabilitation will not be carried out to the end. I overestimated your abilities,” Igor said.

Gradually his head stopped spinning, and he pushed himself up from the bed, staggering to the door and gripping the bars. “What happened?” he asked weakly. The last thing he remembered, they had been literally fading from reality. He’d expected to be dead, not back here in this place. “Where are my friends?”

But Igor just chuckled, and Caroline slammed her baton into the bars of the cell. “You’re incompetent!” she shouted. “Everything was for nothing!”

“All of our help, and it was not enough for you to avert ruin,” Justine added, but Akira blinked, picking up on something new in their golden eyes. The twins were _afraid_. Was the world really ending? Had it ended already?

“Humans are more foolish than I expected,” Igor said, and Akira’s gaze jumped to him. Foolish? Why did that sound…? But Igor continued, “You lost the game. The Trickster was meant to bring change to mankind, but it seems the title fell to someone unworthy this time. The price for defeat is your life.”

Both Akira and the twins froze at the flat declaration. But Igor’s smile never faltered. “I hereby sentence you to execution, to be carried out immediately. God’s decree is absolute, and everything is over. Girls, make his death swift.”

Caroline and Justine exchanged a startled look, and Caroline said slowly, “If that is what our master wishes…”

“You’re going to kill me?” Akira gasped, and he flinched back as Caroline hit the bars again, with the electrified baton this time.

“Y-You just didn’t finish your rehabilitation,” she said. “So...we can’t let you go.”

“But killing him…” Justine began, until Igor’s voice cut across the prison like a blade.

“Is something the matter? Carry out his sentence at once.”

Caroline shook her head at her sister. “It’s his fault for losing the game!” she said loudly, and Akira felt ice filling his veins. She sounded like Goro, trying to justify something she didn’t want to do. Something was terribly wrong, here.

He could only stumble back as they opened the cell, though. The shackles fell away as they approached, and before he could even attempt to reason with them, Caroline lashed out with the baton, sending a jolt through his body that left him on the floor. It was so much worse than the sparks that caught his hands occasionally, and he couldn’t fight as they dragged him into the center of the room. Even the familiar music had gone quiet, as if the whole room was holding its breath, watching him. He had just enough sense to register the guillotines that had manifested behind them, and fear left him paralyzed even as they let him go and stepped back.

That was right. This place was full of execution equipment.

_Are you taking me to be hanged?_

He couldn’t die here. He couldn’t die without knowing what had happened to his friends, the world, everything. He couldn’t die before he figured out why everything felt so off about this entire situation. But as he struggled to get up, a blow slammed into his back, leaving him flat again. It felt like Megaton Raid, like they had summoned… But could they…?

Of course they could. They had his compendium. Every persona he’d ever fused. And with what was in there… They could make this as slow or as quick as they chose.

“Just… Just be still and accept your fate!” Caroline ordered, but her voice wavered. Akira ignored her, forcing himself to his knees, and then his feet.

“Where are my friends? Answer me,” he said lowly, and as he spoke, the prisoner’s clothes that he’d always worn in the Velvet Room were consumed with blue fire, leaving behind Joker’s outfit in their wake. “Caroline, Justine, please…” He refused to go down without answers.

“Don’t address us so familiarly, Inmate,” Justine said, though there was no scolding in her voice, as if she didn’t have the heart for it. “To think you would still attempt to rebel, even after you failed…”

Akira staggered as another blow landed, and another. Fire and ice and punishing hits to his already-injured body. But he refused to be knocked from his feet, and finally Caroline gritted out, “This doesn’t feel right. Why am I doubting myself?”

“We’re… We’re not meant to be executioners…” Justine murmured. “We’re meant to help.” She looked at Akira, practically doubled over but still standing, her thoughts reeling. She could see him, smiling, offering them the Jack Frost dolls he’d worked so hard to win. Jack Frost, they’d summoned it a lot, once, hadn’t they, and the same smiles, happy and proud and exasperated all in one, red and blue and something wasn’t right, _something wasn’t right_.

Justine looked up at Igor, who was standing with his arms folded just behind Akira. “Is there a problem, girls?” he asked. “I ordered you to carry out his sentence immediately.”

“M-Master, we’re meant to be guides, are we not?” Justine asked shakily. “Have you given up on humanity?”

“Humanity is too distorted to avoid ruin now,” Igor said. “The Trickster has failed.” He shook his head, but the smug smile never left his face. “What a disappointing game this has been. If the two of you refuse to carry out your orders...”

Akira’s eyes went wide as suddenly everything clicked, and he spun around and forced himself back towards Caroline and Justine in a sudden burst of panic. Fortunately, the twins seemed to have reached the same conclusion, because neither of them laid a hand on him, just made identical noises of shock as he threw out his arms defensively, keeping himself between them and Igor.

“Trickster…!” Justine said, confused and incredulous. And really, she had every right to be. Even beaten halfway to death, _again_ , he was standing there trying to protect them, when they had been about to execute him not two minutes before.

“It’s not...your fault…” Akira said roughly, doing his best to keep them behind him. “That thing…”

Caroline snatched the clipboard from her sister and flipped through it frantically, and Akira felt the familiar warmth of diarahan fill him. He straightened up with a shudder, grey eyes locking onto Igor’s. Or… the Holy Grail’s. That was what had been eating at him, since the moment the Treasure spoke in Mementos. Underneath the echoes and distortion, it was _Igor’s_ voice.

Had he been used, all this time?

“What are you?” Akira demanded, hyperaware that the twins had grabbed onto his coat. “You’re it, aren’t you? The Grail. You’ve been the Grail all along.”

The Grail laughed, and it was deep and endless. All three of them shuddered, and it said, “I am the God of Control born from mankind’s desires. I had wondered if seeing a righteous thief vanquish evil would inspire mankind to change, but I was wrong. The masses have chosen to wipe you from cognition. They proved that they deserve only ruin and control.” He began to hover slightly off the ground, surrounded by glowing strands of red and black power. His glowing eyes looked down at Akira. “However, you still have your will of rebellion even now. Perhaps it is worth reevaluating you after all. You are truly a prisoner that did not bore me. A human has discovered my true identity and surprised a god. And so, I will offer you a deal.”

Justine tugged at his coat sharply, as if in warning, but Akira just said, as levelly as he could, “What kind of deal?” 

“I have the power to return the world to its prior distorted state,” the Grail said. “Everything back as it was before. The Phantom Thieves will be recognized, and your friends will be brought back as a result.”

“You’re gonna keep toying with him, after everything that’s already happened, you fake?!” Caroline shouted, and Akira reached back to put a heavy hand on her shoulder, knowing that they were in a delicate position. It was refreshing to have both wardens on his side, though.

Before he could speak, though, it continued, “And, of course, what is a game without all of the pieces? You have lost something, haven’t you?”

Akira hesitated.

_Goro._

“Are you telling me you can revive the dead?” he asked, proud that he managed to still keep his voice even.

“I can do many things.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Akira faltered. His friends and family safe, the city put back together… They would be distorted, they would have given up their free will, but with the Phantom Thieves as a respected presence, something could be done about that. And… he could have Goro back. It was a cold, selfish thing, to wish distortion on the whole world, just for that one thing, but he had never asked for anything this important in his life.

Would it...be worth it?

***

_The Voice was talking._

_The Voice was talking, but not to him. That had never happened before. It had always spoken to him. This space was all there was; what else could it be talking to? He crawled closer to the sliver of light, the crack in the wall, and listened. It spoke of ruin, of distortion, of the Trickster._

_Of an_ execution.

_There was the sound of electricity, a fight, an argument, and he dug his fingers into the edges of the crack desperately, only to reel back in shock as bits of the wall flecked away as he pulled. His eyes widened, and he scraped more desperately at the concrete, growing frantic as the Voice offered a restoration, a reversal, to return something lost._

_But he wasn’t lost. He wasn’t_ lost, he was awake, and he knew what was happening, and he pressed as close to his one window to the outside as he could, something burning deep in his chest, and yelled as loudly as he could.

_“AKIRA!”_

***

Akira’s eyes widened as his bonds burned. He lifted a hand to his chest, feeling the one in particular tugging at him, and he glanced around the room for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face. “Goro…”

“Is that not what you would desire most?” the Grail asked.

Akira’s smirk was sharp enough to cut. “It is,” he admitted, “but that’s not something you can give me. Not in exchange for the world. Keep your deal, imposter.”

The false Igor looked down on him, expression twisted into something cruel. “You choose death? Very well. Then I have no further need of you.” He lifted his hands, red and black energy beginning to charge between them, and Akira stepped back into a defensive stance, making sure the twins were still behind him. If he could do nothing else, he was going to protect them.

But just as the imposter launched his attack, there was a deafening yell from the cell that Akira had abandoned, and curtains of pale light surrounded him and the twins. Akira flinched as the beam that the Grail shot at him ricocheted off the light, and when he opened his eyes again, there were a lot more people in the room.

Three of them looked like the twins, with pale hair and golden eyes, though they were dressed in normal clothes instead of Velvet blue. The other two seemed normal enough, but all five of them were carrying weapons, and the Grail did _not_ look pleased to see them.

“How dare you impersonate our master!” one of the young women cried, brandishing an axe nearly the size of her entire body, and through a vague thought that Haru would approve Akira heard Caroline and Justine gasp.

These had to be their older siblings. Somehow.

“So, you have finally managed to find a way in,” the Grail said coldly. “You are far, far too late. I kept you out years ago to prevent you from interrupting my plans, but now there is nothing that even you can do.”

All of the attendants shuddered involuntarily. The tone of that voice was the abyss itself, all wrong coming from the figure that looked like their master. The young man with blue hair looked around the room, and then demanded, “Where are the others?”

The Grail laughed. “I don’t have time or energy to waste on you. Search for them, if you must. You may not like what you find…” In a swirl of red and black energy, it vanished, and Akira’s eyes widened as five pairs of eyes turned to focus on him all at once. This was...overwhelming. But they had saved his life, and he was grateful for that, at least.

The blue-haired man smiled at him, and he tried to focus. “Who is…?” he asked slowly, the man’s face dragging at something in his memory. He knew this man, from somewhere, a long time ago.

“This is Arisato Minato,” one of the pale-haired women said with a small smile. “A former guest of this Velvet Room.”

A former guest? Did that mean he was like Akira? But… Minato?

_Looks like we’ve got a little trickster here, Minato. We better watch out for this one._

Akira’s mouth fell open. “It’s… It’s you! From the tower!” He remembered, he remembered being small, and mischievous, and approaching the glum-looking boy with blue hair and his friend in yellow, offering them an empty candy wrapper and laughing when they realized there was no chocolate inside. He’d been scolded harshly afterwards for running off, but something about those two had drawn him in. Now he knew why. Another Wild Card…

What were the chances?

Minato took a step forward, offering Akira a knife in a worn sheath. “It’s nice to meet you at last, Trickster,” he said, still smiling. “Your predecessor sends his regards. I’m sure you have a thousand questions, but right now there is a lot to do.” His gaze flickered to Caroline and Justine, then back to Akira, who took the knife, unsure what to say.

All around the room, the cells swung open, and Caroline and Justine’s brother grabbed Minato and the other one without Velvet Room features and pushed them towards the doors. “Go, Minato-san. We’ll handle things here.”

Minato nodded, offering Akira an encouraging smile before grabbing the other man’s hand and disappearing further into the Velvet Room.

“What…?” Akira began, but Caroline and Justine shoved past him.

“Theodore! Elizabeth, Margaret!”

The older siblings looked confused by the twins, but the one with long hair finally looked to Akira. “My name is Margaret. My siblings are Elizabeth and Theodore. We have been locked out of this place for a long time. But… Forgive me, I do not understand. I do not recognize these two.”

“We remember now,” Caroline said loudly. “We remember, he ripped us apart, to keep us from questioning him.”

“We are meant to be one,” Justine continued.

Tentatively, Theodore asked, “...Lavenza…?”

The twins turned to Akira, saying almost in unison, “You have to fuse us back together, so that we can regain our true form.”

Akira could feel the blood draining from his face, and he looked from them to the guillotines and back. “There’s… There’s got to be another way to do this. Right?”

“We don’t have cards for fusion,” Justine said. “This is the only way.”

Akira was grateful that his mask hid some of his panic, but Margaret seemed to see through him anyway, and she said gently, “We...are not fond of this situation either, but we are not human, Kurusu-kun. They will be okay. I swear to you.”

He was _so tired_ of having to do things he didn’t like, but he let them wrap up in the shrouds they used for personas, and while they did that, Elizabeth asked, “Is this what all of your fusions have been like?” When Akira nodded numbly, her face fell. “That… I am sorry, Kurusu-kun. You shouldn’t have been forced to endure this.”

None of them could look when Akira threw the lever. All that they knew was the scrape of the blades descending and the sickening thud when they hit bottom. But there was a rush of power, and when they looked again, there was a little girl standing there, with hair past her waist and an elegant blue dress. She curtseyed to Akira. “My name is Lavenza. Thank you for restoring me to my true form.”

Another burst of power filled the room, and at the desk the Grail had abandoned, an identical man appeared. Akira stepped back in alarm, but the attendants all cried out at once, “Master Igor!” and he could only assume it was the real one at last. It didn’t change the anxious feeling that seeing the man’s face gave him, and he opted to ignore them all, instead reaching for the bond that still burned inside of him. He had rejected the deal, because it had proven to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that Goro, despite everything, was still alive. In hindsight, it had made sense. After all, he had ‘died’, technically within the metaverse. And where had he ended up?

Here. The Velvet Room.

He followed the tug of another Wild Card, looking around the room until his eyes caught on a crack in the wall, above the row of cells. He’d seen it before, and hadn’t thought much of it. It was exactly opposite his cell. But it was strange, an imperfection like that in otherwise solid walls. He ignored the attendants chattering with excitement behind him, and took tentative steps around them, never looking away from that gap in the stone. Frightened and hopeful, he called. “Goro?”

Inside his prison, Goro’s fingers scraped at the crack in the wall desperately. “Akira!” The bond between them flared like fire, and he struggled to his feet, stepping back and lunging at the wall. As he made contact, the prisoner’s clothes he was wearing burned away into his Thief gear once more, and the stone wall burst outwards in a spray of rubble like it was no more substantial than styrofoam.

He overbalanced from the force that he’d thrown himself forward with and tumbled from the now-open shelter. But just as he was preparing to slam into the ground, he felt arms wrap around him, and Akira was squeezing him so tightly he could barely breathe.

Akira couldn’t believe it. He’d been here the whole time. He’d been here, when Akira was dropping off the Jack Frosts, talking about how much he missed him. He’d been less than fifty feet away. It was a miracle.

“Akira,” Goro began, but he was cut off as Akira kissed him, overwhelmed and happy and so thankful that just one thing in this awful, hellish day had gone right.

He pulled away after only a moment, belatedly remembering that they technically had an audience, and he turned back to the residents of the Velvet Room, one arm still locked firmly around Goro’s waist.

The real Igor smiled, and despite Akira’s continued anxiety associated with his face, his voice was soft and kind as he spoke. 

“Welcome, both of you, to the Velvet Room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels kind of choppy in places to me, but that’s what happens when you make a giant mistake and decide to attempt to wrangle over forty potential characters in one chapter. There’s thirty-one Shadow Operatives in Tokyo. Please. I am suffering. X’’DDD
> 
> Hell-on-Earth needs some hellish stakes, though, especially if Yald’s planning to purge the indolent or whatever, so. More shadows roaming the streets attacking people. Some of the other confidantes will hopefully make appearances, assuming I don't crack trying to coordinate all these people.
> 
> Up yours, Yald. ;)
> 
> Next chapter: Belief is the strongest force in the universe. What do you believe in, Tokyo? The God of Control, or the Phantom Thieves?


	54. December 24th, 2016 (3)

The back hallways of the Velvet Room twisted and turned as three Wild Cards hurried in two different directions. While Akira and Goro sought to free their teammates and reignite their will to fight, Minato and Ryoji ventured deeper, searching for prisoners of their own.

“That was Lavenza? The twins?” Ryoji asked as they searched the blue hallways. “They’ll be able to fix her, right?”

“Benefits of not being totally human, I think,” Minato said shortly, turning another corner to peer into a cell. It was empty, and he moved on with a disappointed huff. Suddenly, though, he stopped, tilting his head and listening. There was a faint humming coming from further on, and both of them exchanged a glance before breaking into a run. Footsteps echoed in the stone hallways as they raced along, and they skidded to a halt in front of a larger cell, containing two people that had been very much missed.

“Lady Belladonna! Nameless!” Minato gasped. The cell door opened at his touch, and he and Ryoji didn’t even let them get up, throwing themselves at their pseudo-parents.

Belladonna laughed in concerned disbelief, pulling Ryoji close. “You two… What are you doing here? I told you it was dangerous.” She may have rolled her eyes every time that Ryoji jokingly referred to her as his mother, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t share the sentiment, holding him tightly. It had been almost three years. Seeing them now was like a dream.

“It’s gone,” Ryoji blurted, muffled against her shoulder. “That thing is gone. You’re free. Igor’s back, they’re gonna help the twins… We’re all here, Theo and Liz and Margaret are here too.”

Nameless reached up to touch Minato’s face, his relieved expression apparent even through his blindfold. “You’ve done so well, looking after everyone all this time,” he said, his voice filled with pride, and Minato ducked his head to hide his welling eyes. “We apologize for having to lie to you about our safety, but he threatened to kill Caroline or Justine if we did not obey. We did not dare risk not being able to restore Lavenza.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand. But I’ve got to ask…” Minato said. “You’ve been able to see what was going on with the new Wild Card, right?” The Velvet residents had always known what was happening with him and Yu, even when they technically shouldn’t have. It wouldn’t be a surprise for them to have seen what Kurusu Akira was up to, as well.

Belladonna nodded as Ryoji sat up to listen as well, though a tiny smile tugged at her lips as she said, “Both of them.”

Minato took a sharp breath. “I remember Elizabeth mentioning that there was supposed to be more than one, but we never learned anything about the other. Were they a part of the Phantom Thieves as well?”

“It is quite a tale, Minato-san,” Belladonna said. “Is there time for it now?”

He exchanged a glance with Ryoji, who nodded. “The Thieves are probably getting their answers right now. We’ve got a little while to get some of our own.”

Belladonna folded her hands in her lap. “Let me tell you, then, about the game that the God of Control devised, and the children that he forced to play…”

***

It took a while to retrieve the rest of the Thieves. They were imprisoned in cells farther out from the main room, and Akira slowly realized that the Grail hadn’t been offering him a miracle at all. Sure, it might have been able to revert the city to look normal, but it couldn’t have returned his friends if they had actually been dead. It was planning to pull all of them, and even Goro, out like a rabbit from a hat. They would have been there all along, just unseen until it wanted him to see them.

Having Goro with him did wonders for convincing his despairing friends that they couldn’t give up yet. As soon as Ann’s cell had opened she had thrown herself at Goro in a tremendous hug, and while the others were more subdued, it was clear that they were happy to see him. And so one-by-one, they got the Thieves back to the main room. But despite searching and searching, they couldn’t find Morgana, and finally Goro caught his hand.

“Akira, I… I don’t think we’re going to find him,” he said softly.

Akira chewed his lip almost hard enough to break the skin. “I’m not leaving anyone behind. I already had to do that once; I’m not doing it again.” His hand squeezed Goro’s tight enough to hurt.

Goro reached for his face, cupping his cheek. “Then let’s at least ask, rather than pacing the halls that we’ve already searched.” He smiled as Akira leaned into his hand. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither is Morgana. He’s probably already escaped and wandered off somewhere.”

Forced to acknowledge that that did sound like the sort of thing Morgana would do, Akira and Goro walked back to the main room, finding the Thieves clustered in a group and watching the residents suspiciously. Elizabeth, Margaret, and Theodore were standing back, leaving Lavenza and Igor to take center stage, and Akira swallowed down his nerves and forced himself to face them properly. He had liked the twins, but they were gone, and now this room was full of people that he didn’t technically know.

“Joker, where are we?” Makoto asked, arms folded.

“This is that Velvet Room place where you do stuff with your personas, yeah?” Ryuji asked, and Akira nodded.

“Yeah, it is, but...some stuff happened. It’s a lot,” he said.

Igor, seated at the desk, smiled at all of them. “My name is Igor,” he said. “I am the true master of this Velvet Room.”

“I am Lavenza, and these are my siblings,” Lavenza added, gesturing to the other residents. “My master has been imprisoned for a long time, and is still very weak. The God of Control -- the being you know as the Holy Grail -- locked him away and impersonated him to facilitate the twisted game it has been playing.”

“So it’s been manipulating Akira-kun the whole time?” Haru gasped, sounding scandalized. Akira couldn’t blame her; when you put it like that, it sounded really bad.

But that was in the past, as far as he was concerned. All that mattered now was what they could do about it, but before even that… He looked down at Lavenza, concern bleeding into his voice as he said quietly, “Lavenza, is Morgana all right?”

Lavenza smiled. “He is.” She turned to look over at the row of cells, calling gently, “Morgana, they want to see you.”

Morgana emerged from one of the cells, his head down as he approached, and the Thieves clamored, all asking if he was okay, if he was hurt, where he had been. Morgana stopped in front of them, looking anxious, and said quietly, “I’m okay. This is...where I was born.”

“You are a resident of the Velvet Room as well?” Goro asked, looking from their friend to Igor and back.

“Not exactly…” Morgana said. “I… My master created me from mankind’s hope, to find the Trickster and help him defeat the distortion lurking in the collective unconscious. To help, where he couldn’t, because that thing had locked him away.”

“I must say,” Igor said, and everyone but Akira looked at him curiously. “I certainly did not intend him to take this shape. But Hope had waned so much that this was the best that could be managed. Forgive me, Morgana.”

Morgana’s eyes widened. “I was meant to be human!” he gasped. “I knew it!” But after only a moment, his face fell, and he said sadly, “But I failed. All of you almost got deleted from reality because of me. Because I dragged you into Mementos when we didn’t know what to expect.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Akira insisted. “How were any of us supposed to know what was waiting in the Depths? That thing played all of us, right from the beginning.”

“But what was its plan?” Goro asked. “If it simply wanted to take over Tokyo, why all of this fuss? Why aid Akira at all, if Akira’s victory would have derailed its plans?”

Igor nodded to Lavenza, who explained, “Because a being that is born of humanity knows how dangerous a weapon hope can be. And so it built a rigged game as a means to destroy what remained of that hope, and chose two with the potential to awaken to the power of the Wild Card as its pieces.” She looked from Akira to Goro, smiling sadly. “Kurusu Akira, the Trickster, was destined to pull off a miracle and win over the public, to prove that control was not what they truly desired. But the chances of that had been reduced to almost nothing, as you were not given proper guidance or preparation for what you had been thrown into, and you were starting almost two years behind. The false god believed that being destroyed by the very public that had raised you so high in the first place would completely kill your will to rebel, leaving it free to do as it pleased. Obviously that was not the case.”

“...and the other Wild Card?” Akira asked, winding an arm around Goro again and feeling the other boy lean into him.

“Akechi Goro was chosen to encourage the masses’ distortions,” Lavenza explained. “Were you to have succeeded in your plans for revenge, it would have been the false god’s victory. Getting the public to be dependent on a single leader and then removing that leader would only have encouraged them to cling to the next thing to fill that power vacuum, which would have been Yaldabaoth. It would condemn mankind to servitude, achieving peace by ruling a world filled with those that had ceased to think.”

“That’s its name?” Ann whispered.

“So it’s some kind of demiurge. It’s not even an actual god,” Futaba said flatly, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Indeed,” Igor said. “And it is the destiny of a Trickster to avert ruin and restore the ability of the masses to think for themselves. As your predecessor did. The false god did not lie about that.”

“Are you saying I’m some kind of messiah?” Akira asked. The idea terrified him. The idea of fighting a god was bad enough as it was.

Lavenza smiled mysteriously, and to his great relief, shook her head. “Messiah is not your burden to bear,” and the way she said it made it sound like so much more than a simple word. “That duty falls to another. But, Trickster, it is up to you to face down this threat, Messiah or not. You must take the world back from the monster that seeks to control it, and reclaim your place in reality.”

Akira simply stood there for a long moment, trying to come to terms with what was being asked of him. He’d come so far, and done so much; the him from back in April, secretly afraid all the time, wouldn’t be able to recognize who he was now: a man that jumped through stained glass windows and fought unreal monsters. He felt Goro, leaning into his side, and the rest of his team, standing at his back and waiting for his decision, and a tiny smile crept over his face. They could do this. As long as they were all together, they could do this.

“We’ll destroy it.”

“Very good,” Igor said, and he gestured to the cell behind them. “I have the utmost faith in you as guests of this Velvet Room. Morgana knows the way out. Bring chaos back to this false order, Trickster.”

It was only after the Thieves had gone that Minato and Ryoji emerged from the other side of the room, Belladonna and Nameless a step behind. Lavenza, who had been maintaining a strict air of professionalism in front of her older siblings and her guests, finally cracked and took off across the room, crashing into Minato with a wail.

“Minato-san--!”

Minato hugged her tightly as she buried her face in his stomach. “I’m so proud of you,” he said. “I know your siblings are, too.”

He let go of her so that she could circle the room to hug everyone else, and stepped up in front of Igor’s desk. “Master Igor,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“My most troublesome guest,” Igor replied, but there was a certain fondness in his eyes.

“I might not hold that record for long. We don’t know what Kurusu-kun will get up to after everything is over,” Minato said wryly. “Really, though…”

“You’ve done well,” Igor interrupted him, and Minato’s mouth snapped shut immediately with surprise. “I know that it must have been dreadfully difficult to be cut off in the way that you were. Thank you for looking after the others. I am...so grateful that they are safe.”

To have Igor thanking _him_ was almost more than Minato could handle, and he swallowed his emotions as best he could and said coolly, “I couldn’t have done anything else. All of you are my family.” He glanced over his shoulder, where the attendants and Ryoji were talking animatedly, and said, just barely edging into impudent, “So, do we have to sneak out to help this time, or can we just go?”

Igor looked down at his folded hands with a chuckle. “I am sure you are well aware that the Phantom Thieves must face the conclusion of their journey on their own. But so far as keeping the rest of the city safe...go, with my blessing.”

Somewhere behind him, Elizabeth whooped, already grabbing for her battleaxe. Belladonna and Nameless looked on, aghast. “Are you not taking the compendiums?”

“Of course we are,” Elizabeth said. “But there is something particularly satisfying about physical combat as well. And we’ve put in too much training to simply give it up now.”

“I’ll go find them,” Theodore volunteered, and he hurried off into the back hallways of the prison once again. Minato glanced towards the door where the Phantom Thieves had left, thinking of everything Belladonna had told him about the two Wild Cards, and closed his eyes.

He wished them all the luck in the world, because there were things that needed to happen when all of this was over.

***

Being a PSIA agent had prepared Sojiro for a lot of things, but Hell literally emerging on Earth was not one of them. When the sky had started raining blood, Sojiro had locked up the cafe and gone to get his gun, picking up Tae along the way. She’d grabbed a baseball bat from somewhere, and together they’d set off for Shibuya, figuring that was where the center of things was, and that they’d be safer together.

“So this has something to do with the kids?” Tae asked, casually sending a strange, pumpkin-headed monster into orbit with a well-placed swing.

“Most likely,” Sojiro said. “I didn’t think all their weird shenanigans would follow them home, though.”

They’d had to take a different train and then walk, because there were ‘delays’ at the Shibuya station. Sojiro didn’t know what that meant and wasn’t sure he wanted to, but it did mean that they were walking down Center Street when they spotted a frowning man with a very large gun blowing a hole in some kind of flying monster. Both Sojiro and Tae froze, staring at him, and the guy glanced at them and said in a gruff voice, “You can see this shit too?”

“Yeah, we can,” Tae said after a moment. “Who are you? And where on earth did you get that? There’s no way you bought that legally.”

The guy grinned crookedly. “Name’s Iwai. And it’s a replica; it’s not a real gun.” He looked like he was relishing the confusion on their faces, because he waited a minute before elaborating, “Hey, if the Phantom Thieves could buy my stock and keep coming back for more, there had to be a reason. Some ugly thing crashed into my shop, so I just grabbed one and it worked.”

“Oh,” Sojiro said, as he made the connection. “You’re where he’s been getting all his weapons.” He offered Iwai a hand. “Sakura Sojiro. I’m the kid’s guardian.”

Iwai accepted his hand. “So you’ve been taking care of him? Heh. You’ve got a heck of a kid, there. Whatever they’re fighting doesn’t stand a chance.”

As they managed to get out of the side-street and into the Scramble proper, Sojiro happened to look up at the bizarre path leading towards the massive temple that had appeared in the middle of the city, and spotted a familiar crowd sprinting upwards. He recognized the blue cape and long coat, anyway, and the rest were a safe bet. “Look!”

“Where are they _going?_ ” Tae exclaimed, shielding her eyes from the rain.

“Hopefully to put an end to this,” someone called from behind them, and when they turned to look Sojiro stared in befuddlement as Sae approached, with a young man with silver hair and a longsword and a blonde girl that appeared to have _guns for fingers_.

“What the hell,” he managed.

Sae smiled. “I figured you would be able to see it too. Narukami-kun here said it was people who share bonds with Kurusu-kun, whatever that means.”

“If I’m guessing the situation right, whatever’s in that temple thinks itself a god,” Narukami said, gesturing with the sword. “But they’ll be able to handle it, as long as they stick together.”

The blonde girl’s eyes wandered over their weapons. “Are you willing to help us fight down here?” she asked.

Sojiro nodded. “Whatever we need, to help those kids.” He glanced at Tae, who slapped the bat against her palm in agreement, and Iwai, who still looked impassive even as his grip tightened on his gun, and all of them turned back to the streets.

“Kido-san is going to meet us near the bus station. He finally got in touch,” Narukami said, as if any of the adults knew who that was. “Let’s meet him there.”

There was nothing to do but agree, and they all set out through the throngs of oblivious people. Whatever bizarre blood this was was almost up to their knees, and still most people hadn’t noticed.

When they did, there was going to be panic.

***

When Minato, Ryoji, and the attendants emerged from the Velvet Room, Hamuko and Shinjiro were the only ones left in the Scramble, taking out the scattered shadows that continued to spawn. Elizabeth and Theodore split off immediately, while Lavenza, clutching her bow and arrow from before everything, stuck close beside Margaret.

“Minato! Ryoji!” Hamuko shouted, waving them over, and Minato looked up at the temple with concern.

“They’re gone?” he asked.

Shinjiro nodded. “They’re on their way. Mitsuru took Fuuka to try to get a better vantage point. There’re four other powerful signals up there other than the big one, but Fuuka said it doesn’t feel like the Reaper.”

“No, it wouldn’t be the Reaper…” Minato said. “It thinks itself a god; it would be the archangels. Lady Belladonna mentioned that they were there the day that the room was taken over.” 

“She’s okay,” Hamuko said, relief clear in her expression.

“Everyone is,” Ryoji said. “It’s a miracle.” Even as he spoke, there was a pulse of power, and he blinked as the people around them started growing agitated.

“What is this?”

“What’s happened to the city?”

“Is this blood?!”

Hamuko’s mouth fell open. “People are starting to notice that something’s wrong!” she cried. “Whatever the Thieves are doing, it’s working!”

“There will be more panic from here on,” Minato said. “We have to keep as many people safe as we can. Let’s go!”

***

The path through Qliphoth was long and winding. More than once the Thieves had to stop to just get a grasp on their surroundings. They were above even the skyscrapers, traveling on paths like roads through the sky. But as one after another of the Grail’s guardians fell before them, they could hear pandemonium beginning below them as people began to finally clue in to the horror that their reality had become.

Akira could only hope that the attendants and that other Wild Card had things under control. Maybe the Shadow Operatives were around. But right now all they could do was reach the top as quickly as possible.

Thankfully being erased from reality hadn’t erased their medicine, and when they reached the top and four defeated archangels lay behind them, Akira passed around the healing items as they stopped at the last platform before the temple’s entrance.

“Just that thing to go, right?” Ann asked, looking down the path into the temple. Trepidation had fallen away the closer they got, and determination burned in its place. “We already know what it can do, so we just have to make sure we can outlast it.”

“We have to cut those lines it uses to heal if we’re going to get anywhere,” Futaba said. “But it’ll definitely attack if it knows we’re going after them.”

“Another distraction plan, then?” Yusuke asked. “Perhaps if Joker and Ace were to hold its attention, a few of us could get to the lines.”

Akira nodded. “It’s not all-seeing. We can do this. Is everyone ready?”

Morgana nodded. “This is our last heist as Phantom Thieves. Let’s do this!”

Together they walked down the long path to the temple, finding that it still contained a blood-red panopticon of cells with imprisoned shadows. And in the center stood the Grail, still connected to them with the pulsing red veins from Mementos.

**“What arrogance you possess, those who rebel against the wishes of humanity. Do you truly think you can defy the will of the public? They are the ones who made me a god in the first place. They wish for my rule!”**

Goro stepped forward, his gaze flat and hard. “People wish for things without understanding the consequences,” he said coldly. “I of all people know that. And I will not allow you to turn humanity into mindless puppets to be ruled over.”

“You used us,” Akira said harshly. “You used all of us, so that you could take control. Whether humanity wished for you or not, you rigged the ‘game’ in your favor. That’s unforgivable.” From the corner of his eye, he spotted Morgana and Yusuke creeping around the room in opposite directions towards the hands on either side of the Grail. “You’re not a god, you’re not a ruler, you’re just another being gone mad with the power that it has over others. We will take the public’s distorted desire...and that means destroying you!”

 **“So long as the masses continue to support me, I am invincible,”** the Grail declared, and Akira just grinned as Morgana and Yusuke took their positions.

“Then all we have to do is remove that support.”

At his gesture, Morgana and Yusuke leaped for the Grail, swords flashing in matching crescent arcs as they severed its connection to the inmates around it. Without giving it a chance to recover, Akira ordered the rest of the Thieves forward, landing attack after attack with full intentions to smash the thing into pieces and end the nightmare that had fallen over Tokyo.

But every blow they landed only seemed to make the Grail more enraged, and eventually the entire room began to rumble. The Thieves clustered close together, uncertain what was happening, until there was a massively bright flash and the temple itself began to split apart, throwing up a great cloud of dust and debris. And through that cloud, as they struggled to keep their balance on the shifting floor, they could see the Grail began to change. The wings that had decorated the sides of it flared out, and from the deconstructed temple the rest of it emerged, revealing that the Grail all along had just been a small part of a truly enormous whole. When the dust cleared, the Thieves were left staring at a figure that towered over Tokyo, as tall as the Skytree still visible in the distance, and probably taller still.

 **“I am the ruler born of the collective unconsciousness of humanity: the God of Control, Yaldabaoth,”** it intoned, and all of them quaked beneath the depths of that voice.

“It’s the size of a building!” Futaba shrieked.

“How many fucking arms is that?” Ryuji stammered.

“It’s got a _gun_ ,” Haru pointed out, her eyes wide. “And a sword.”

**“The foolish rebels of society must be purged. If left to their own devices, humans will lead the world to its demise. They require a leader to make their decisions, as they would proceed straight off a cliff of ruin otherwise. I am the entity which governs this world. Its future depends upon my leadership.”**

Akira took a deep breath. “This is just a rigged game that _you_ started!” he shouted. “We won’t allow you to control people like this!”

“Even if humans are flawed, they are still worth saving! They still have a chance to be better!” Makoto cried.

 **“Those who resist god’s will shall be met with divine retribution!”** Yaldabaoth snarled.

A wave of power swept across their platform, and all of them were forced to brace themselves to withstand it.

“Can we defeat something like this?” Yusuke asked.

“Of course we can!” Morgana cried. “We just have to have hope! This is the best target the Phantom Thieves could wish for: changing the heart of a god!” He stepped forward and turned to look at them all. “I believe in all of you. You’re the best, stupidest team I could ask for. Let’s take back our future!”

Yaldabaoth just looked down at them dismissively.

**“Rebels that defy my rule...you will be executed.”**

***

It quickly became apparent, though they threw their strongest attacks at it, that it wasn’t enough. Futaba’s scans revealed that it wasn’t doing anything, and all of them were secretly terrified that it truly was an invincible god.

Goro threw himself in front of Akira, letting Mordred reflect the attack meant for their leader, and called over his shoulder, “Joker, what are we going to do? Can we really go on like this?”

“We have to!” Akira called back, forcing himself to his feet. “We have to believe we can do this, or nothing is going to change!”

All the Thieves looked up, terrified, as Yaldabaoth began charging a furious attack of red and black energy. Akira recognized it as the killing attack he’d meant to use in the Velvet Room, and he cried out, “Everyone, take cover!”

But there was nowhere to run atop their platform, and even makarakarn didn’t help. The attack cast and left them all collapsed to the roof, barely with the energy to lift their heads. Akira managed to reach with one hand and find Goro’s, winding their fingers together. He had to get up. They couldn’t die here. They couldn’t leave the world like this.

**“Is this the extent of the power to resist ruin?”**

Ann pushed herself to her knees. “You’re...just the same as everyone else!” she panted. “Just another stupid adult that doesn’t care about what anyone thinks but himself!”

“You’re not a god!” Morgana gritted out. “A real god would be content guiding people! You want to destroy anything that won’t act the way you think they should!”

Goro forced himself to sit up, his hand locked with Akira's. “You pitted us against each other for your own sick amusement, all the while knowing the outcome! You’re no better than the humans that you look down on! You used me, you used all of us, and I will not stand for it!”

 **“Cease your drivel and accept that you have lost!”** Power crashed down on the Thieves, over and over, and Yaldabaoth laughed cruelly. Another attack began to charge, and the Thieves, too weak to defend, just glared up at it with all the defiance they had left.

Morgana, Hope Incarnate, was the only one that spoke. “The Phantom Thieves will never yield to you! As long as we’re still alive, _we will never stop fighting!_ ”

***

Below them, on the streets of Shibuya, the Shadow Operatives were trying to drive the shadows back, but as the population grew increasingly panicked it grew more and more difficult.

Minato and Ryoji, perched atop a low concrete wall near a park, stared up at where the Thieves were fighting. The massive figure of the God of Control dominated the skyline, and the people that weren’t fleeing the shadows through waist-deep blood were cowering in fear of the god that had come to bring the end of the world.

Hamuko and Shinjiro, on the edge of the Scramble, were trying to defend the crowd as best they could, but it was a losing battle. Panic was gaining a stronger hold than they could deal with.

“We’ve got to do something!” Hamuko gasped. “The world’s gonna end at this rate!”

“What are we supposed to do?” Shinjiro huffed. “They’re freaking out all over the place. I’m surprised your brother and Ryoji aren’t keeled over somewhere from Erebus attacking them right now.”

Hamuko’s eyes flashed. “We need them to believe in the Phantom Thieves, and not the God of Control. It’s strong because they made it that way. We have to turn the tides.”

All around them, people were despairing. “It’s humans against a god, after all. What can we do…?”

Suddenly, the screens around Shibuya flickered, the logo of the Phantom Thieves faint through the static, and Morgana’s voice filled the city.

_As long as we’re still alive, we will never stop fighting!_

Hamuko and Shinjiro spun to look as the people began to murmur, and suddenly there was a yell from the center of the crowd. Mishima was there, another boy dragging at his arm in a panic, but Mishima stood firm.

“Take it out, Phantom Thieves!” He looked around at the puzzled crowd, and shouted, “They’ve been risking their lives for us all this time! Can’t you see it?! All of you! Even you, Senaka-kun!”

The boy holding his arm stared back with wide eyes, then looked around frantically as shadows began converging, drawn by Mishima’s yell. But before they could attack, Hamuko and Shinjiro charged in, destroying them before they could get anywhere near the boys.

“You tell them, Mishima-kun!” Hamuko called. “The Phantom Thieves can do it!”

The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, more positive, as more and more of them seemed to snap free of the haze that Yaldabaoth’s control had placed on them. “That’s right, they can do this! They won’t let us down!”

“The Phantom Thieves will save us!”

Minato, from his place across the district, took a deep breath. “Belief,” he murmured. “Human will is the most powerful force in the universe. It always has been. People cried out to Nyx. People convinced Izanami that they rejected reality. People ended the world through sheer force of will. And they will do it again if we don’t stop them.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Ryoji asked. “There’s so many people and they’re so freaked out. Can we do this on our own?”

Minato’s phone chimed, and he read the message that Hamuko had sent to all of the Shadow Operatives and smiled. “They just need a little push,” he said. “They want to believe, so they just need something to shock them out of the false god’s control.” He smiled, certain that all around the city, the other Shadow Operatives were reading the same message, knowing what needed to be done. “I know what we can do.”

“What?” Ryoji asked, eyes wide as Minato started walking towards the end of the wall. He followed, all the way down the street, towards the groups of people that were still panicking.

“It’s like before,” Minato said, tapping his toe against the surface of the blood once he’d reached the end of the wall. “The old crisis, that Maya-san dealt with. If cognition is bleeding into the real world, perception is becoming reality again. The more people that believe in the Thieves, the weaker the false god will become.”

Ryoji stared at him. “I suppose that’s true…”

Minato reached for Ryoji’s hand and squeezed. “What are we?”

“Death and the Universe,” he said immediately, and Minato shook his head.

“No, what are we together? A concept that a great number of people have a certain perception of?”

Ryoji’s eyes widened. “...Messiah,” he breathed, and Minato smiled.

“That’s right. _Messiah._ ” And he took a step onto the red pool, standing atop the bloody water as if it were solid ground. Ryoji joined him a second later, and together they walked towards the crowd, ripples spreading from their footsteps in the wake of a miracle.

“Get up!” Minato called to the crowd. “If you believe that the world is ending, it _will_ end! Don’t allow that! _Fight!_ The Phantom Thieves can’t do this alone!”

People stared at them in shock and awe, and slowly, they seemed to snap out of their panic and fear. “That’s right. We...we don’t have to listen to that thing. The Phantom Thieves are still fighting!”

All around the city, the other Shadow Operatives and the Phantom Thieves’ confidantes cried out in support, encouraging the people around them to do the same. The cheers grew louder and louder, filling the city.

“Get back up, don’t lose to that thing!”

“We’ll believe in you to the very end!”

“You’re our last hope! You can do this!”

The Phantom Thieves staggered to their feet as Yaldabaoth faltered, the attack it was charging flickering out. Morgana took a step forward, looking small beside the massive form, but somehow just as intimidating. “Do you hear the people down there? That’s the sound of people that don’t want to be ruled over!”

Futaba managed to call Prometheus, and she gasped as the screens glowed around her. “Guys… it’s getting weaker. It’s getting weaker because people are rejecting it!”

“Listen to all of those people praying,” Goro said, a smile beginning to spread across his face.

“They’re praying that we destroy this thing, so that people can create their own world!” Haru said.

 **“God is the one that creates the world!”** Yaldabaoth shouted, but it meant nothing. None of them were heeding anything it said anymore. Not the public, and not the Phantom Thieves.

“Then we will _take_ the world from you!” Akira countered furiously, only to falter and lift a hand to his head as something surged within him.

“Akira?” Goro gasped as he staggered. “What’s wrong?” He moved to wrap an arm around him and keep him upright, but jerked back in surprise as Akira looked up, his eyes glowing bright, bright red.

“Everyone’s belief… Everyone’s power…” Akira whispered. He straightened up and took a slow step forward, his mask fading as Arsène appeared at his back. The red in his gaze dimmed like an ember, and in a surge of power Arsène burst into light and disappeared.

 **“You think that the power of the ignorant masses will be enough to--”**

But Yaldabaoth’s voice went quiet as clouds began to gather. Thunder rolled, and lightning flashed, and from the sky descended a demon, even taller than the God of Control, its eyes glowing as red as Akira’s had been. It spread its wings wide, dominating the sky as it came to light behind the Phantom Thieves, and no one moved. No one even breathed. Tokyo was silent, not a single person able to believe what they were seeing. The shadows faded, the Shadow Operatives left to stare upwards in disbelief. Even Yu and Minato froze, knowing that this was beyond anything they had ever seen before.

Akira spared it a single glance backwards and smiled.

 **“Fools. This is why humanity is doomed!”** Yaldabaoth attempted to charge another attack, but when it cast, it did nothing to any of them. They all stood firm, facing down the god that was slowly weakening beneath the public’s will. **“This is impossible!”**

Morgana was smiling too. “I get it. If a god’s going to play dirty, it’s a demon lord’s duty to punish it. What better finale could a Trickster ask for?!”

Goro stepped up beside him, catching his hand and never taking his eyes off of Yaldabaoth. “All of our hopes rest with you, Akira,” he said softly. “Put an end to this. For all of us.”

Akira nodded, reaching up with his free hand and drawing his gun. The persona mimicked him, pulling out a truly massive weapon and aiming right for the false god’s head. “We’ll bring chaos back to corrupted order. _Satanael_.”

 **“You dare rob the people’s wishes?!”** Yaldabaoth roared, but Akira could tell, it was the desperate accusations of someone who knew they had lost.

Even a god wasn’t immune to such things, apparently.

“You made me a thief,” he said, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet left a perfect hole through the center of its face, through which the sunset was visible as the clouds cleared. Yaldabaoth slumped, beginning to dissolve, and though it didn’t seem to have eyes Akira could tell it was looking right at him. **“Damn that Igor… It seems he was correct about the true power of a Trickster…”** It’s form scattered into flecks of light until there was nothing left, and the Thieves felt themselves nearly collapse as they all could finally relax.

“...we killed a god,” Akira whispered, as a plain golden cup appeared appeared on the rooftop: the true Treasure of Mementos. He squeezed Goro’s hand, disbelief evident in his expression, and Morgana scurried forward to lay paws on the real grail.

“I have to thank all of you,” he said quietly. “You helped me see my mission through to the end.”

“Mona,” Futaba began, but choked off.

“That sounds like a goodbye,” Goro said accusingly.

Morgana just smiled. “This place will collapse soon. We need to go.” He picked up the grail, which was as tall as he was, and everything faded out in a soft white light.

***

When they reappeared on the street below, it was to a world ravaged by blood and shadows. But as they all looked around, they realized that the twisted spires of Mementos were fading. Everything was covered in the same flecks of light as the dissolving god, slowly restoring reality to how it should be. Unfortunately, ‘everything’ included Morgana.

“Why are you vanishing?!” Ann cried, distressed.

“It’s okay,” Morgana said. “I’m Hope. I’ll be everywhere.” He smiled, already going transparent. “The whole world is based on what each person sees and feels. That’s what shapes reality. So just keep holding on to hope, and I’ll always be there. It’ll be okay.”

“That’s not the same!” Haru cried, but Yusuke caught her arm before she could throw herself at Morgana.

He looked at all of them, one at a time, and his gaze lingered on Akira and Goro. “You guys really were the best. I’m going to miss you. Thank you, for everything.” And with a last fading glow, he was gone. Reality shuddered, resetting to a world where the public were no longer captives. The delusions shattered, and suddenly Shibuya looked normal as crowds milled about, talking about plans for Christmas Eve as if it had been just another day. If they weren’t all sure of what they had just experienced, it might have been like it had never happened at all.

Akira looked around, feeling strangely like there were approving smiles being directed at him from the crowd, but he couldn’t catch anyone’s eye. All of them stood there for a long moment, pushed to their limits and emotionally exhausted, and finally Makoto said, “Did it work? Did we change people’s hearts?”

Listening to the mutters of the crowd around them, he caught several snippets of grumbling about ‘nasty rumors’ about Shido, and that he certainly shouldn’t be prime minister, and Akira smiled. “I think we did.”

“Trickster!” Lavenza cried, running towards him through the crowd at a speed completely unfitting of her elegant outfit. But Akira didn’t care; he leaned down and scooped her up and hugged her tight, because he didn’t know her, not really, but he knew the pieces of her, and sometimes that was the important thing in the end. She hugged him back just as tightly, and when he returned her to her feet she beamed at all of them. “You did it!”

“We did…” Yusuke said. “If I had the energy, I would start on a new painting the moment I got home. I would title it ‘Desire and Hope’...”

“I don’t think any of us have the energy for anything,” Ryuji sighed. “But hey, tomorrow’s Christmas. We should have our last victory party. And it’s gotta be a big one, for a heist like that.”

“It won’t be the same without Mona,” Futaba said sadly, and Goro patted her shoulder.

“He wouldn’t want us to mourn. He would want us to be proud of what we have accomplished.”

“That’s right,” Akira confirmed. “He’d make fun of us if we were too sad.”

They all agreed to meet the following day at Leblanc, and one by one they all separated to go home and rest. Lavenza, too, wished them well, and returned to where the Velvet Door still lingered on the edge of the scramble. Minato, Ryoji, and Mitsuru were there; Mitsuru had dismissed the rest of the Shadow Operatives to recover, but Minato and Ryoji had hung back.

“I know we’re not planning to speak to them tonight,” Minato said. “That would be too much at once.” His eyes tracked a grey-haired woman through the crowd as she walked with purpose. “But I have a favor to ask, Mitsuru-senpai.”

Lavenza looked up at him curiously, but ended up just waving in acknowledgement as she passed him to enter the Velvet Room. There was a lot of work to do, to make it hospitable once again.

***

When Goro and Akira were the only ones left in the Scramble, Akira turned to him and smiled, reaching for his other hand and just holding on, uncaring of the chill around them.

“Come back to Leblanc with me?” he asked softly.

“Is this your way of asking me on a date on Christmas Eve?” Goro replied, but he tugged Akira closer to press a kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to ask, Akira.”

Akira choked on a laugh. “I thought you were dead. I want to ask. I just want some kind of confirmation that this isn’t one last lie.” The day had felt like it had gone on forever. It seemed like years ago that they’d set off into Mementos, and now he was here, in a perfectly ordinary Shibuya with a boyfriend that was back from the dead. Everything in between felt like the best and worst of dreams.

Goro pulled his hands away and stepped even closer, so they were pressed together, and reached up to cup Akira’s face in his hands. “I’m here. I’m real. You saved me, Akira, you saved _everyone_ , and I am never going to leave you again. I swear.”

Akira wrapped his arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly, and when he let go he said with a bright smile, “Let’s go home.”

But they barely made it five feet into the evening crowds of Shibuya before a familiar voice brought them to a stop.

“It seems you managed more than one miracle today,” Sae said, a small smile on her face as they turned to look at him. “I’m glad to see that you’re okay, Akechi-kun.”

“Sae-san,” Goro breathed. “The feeling is mutual. We didn’t know what was going on down here…”

“What’s up?” Akira asked. He could see an edge of tension in her stance, and it was making him nervous in a way that he couldn’t explain.

Sae inclined her head. “I wanted to thank you for taking my request. You’ve done more than I could have ever hoped. And Shido confessed to a variety of crimes. We can now arrest him on those charges.” Her expression fell. “The problem is proving him guilty. We would need to prove the correlation between the metaverse and the mental shutdowns for the most heinous crimes to stick. And for that, one of you would have to testify.”

“...what are you asking?” Akira said quietly.

Sae looked away. “I want one of you to turn yourself in. Preferably Kurusu-kun, as I am sure you can guess that having Akechi-kun’s actions come to light would do more harm than good.” 

Akira’s eyes widened, but he said nothing, mind already filling with the awful possibilities of Goro going to jail.

“Your testimony would be invaluable in proving Shido guilty…” Sae continued. “But it would also reveal your identity. You would be treated as a hero, but the police and the prosecutors won’t want to lose face. With your ‘crimes’ and your past record, they’ll move to have you arrested. Your probation would be revoked, and you would likely be placed in solitary confinement in juvenile hall.”

“No!” Goro said furiously, stepping in front of Akira. “No, he’s done _enough_. More than enough! He said you told him to let the adults handle it, so _handle it!_ ”

“Goro…” Akira said, putting a hand on his shoulder, but Goro just shook him off.

“I am not letting him go to jail because the police of this country are petty, jealous _rats_ ,” he hissed venomously, and Akira could see Loki simmering just beneath the surface. “He saved us all; he deserves far better than punishment and solitary confinement!”

“ _Goro_ ,” Akira repeated, and he felt some of his boyfriend’s tension unwind as he grabbed his shoulder again. “Let’s go back to Leblanc and talk there. People are staring.” He looked up at Sae for agreement, and she nodded. So he wrapped an arm firmly around Goro’s shoulders and steered him towards the train station, assuming she was following.

The ride to Leblanc was quiet, and when they got there, Sojiro wasn’t back yet. So Akira let them in, and almost as soon as the door closed Goro blurted, “I should be the one to go. I know all of what Shido was up to; I can explain everything! You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Exactly,” Akira said, leading the way up the stairs. “I didn’t do anything wrong. So they’ll have to let me out, even if I have to spend a couple days in juvie. I have no idea what they’ll do to you.”

Goro followed, leaving Sae to trail awkwardly behind as he objected, “But I’m the one that actually committed a crime! Multiple crimes!”

“Technically so did I, I think. I don’t think manipulating people’s minds is exactly legal.”

“Akira, I should be the one to go to jail! You know that I should!”

“Nope. Not happening. I’ll be out in no time and we’ll both be fine.”

“Akira!”

Sae attempted to get a word in. “You both--” she began, but she was cut off as both of them snapped at once.

“Sae-san!”

“Niijima-san!”

As soon as they’d spoken, Akira looked frightened, realizing that he’d interrupted the adult that was holding his fate in her hands. Goro recovered first, ducking his head quickly. “Our apologies, Sae-san, we didn’t mean to be so sharp, we just…”

“I understand,” Sae said. “What I was going to say was that you both can work this out between you. Whatever you decide, I will do my best to protect you. Both of you, and the others as well.”

Akira swallowed hard. He trusted her, as much as he could in a situation where she was insisting that one of them would end up in jail. What he didn’t say was that he was terrified of Goro going alone. He knew, in the rational part of his mind, that what he had been through was not the norm. That Sae would never allow anything like that to happen again. But he couldn’t help but be afraid that if he let Goro hand himself over to the police, he’d never see him again, and that was too much to deal with when he’d only just gotten him back. 

The police and courts had condemned him over and over when he hadn’t done anything wrong. What would they do to a teenager who was determined to admit that he had committed murder? He would rather go through another round in that interrogation room than let Goro suffer the same.

He was spared from vocalizing any of that by the sound of another person joining them.

“What’s all the yelling about?” Sojiro asked, appearing at the top of the stairs. He’d obviously seen the lights on and come to check on Akira, not expecting to walk into the middle of an argument.

Akira pointed accusingly at Goro. “Tell him that he’s not going to jail!”

“What?” Sojiro stared at them, befuddled. “Neither of you are going to jail.” The statement was punctuated with a glare at Sae, who sighed and rolled her eyes, walking over to take his arm and lead him over to one side to explain the situation. That left Akira and Goro in a standoff beside the futon.

“Why won’t you let me do this?” Goro asked despairingly. “This should be what you wanted; I’m finally thinking of people other than myself. Taking responsibility for my actions.”

“Because you don’t deserve to go to jail!” Akira insisted.

Something in Goro’s eyes cracked. “I _killed people!_ ” he snapped, earning both Sae and Sojiro’s attention as well. “I killed more than one person, and I drove as many and more mad! _I did that_ , of my own free will!”

“Under duress,” Akira said flatly.

“No,” Goro countered. “I could have decided at any time to not obey anymore.”

“And what would have happened to you?”

That got him to quiet down. “I… Shido would have disposed of me.”

Akira reached up, cupping his face gently. “You told us back in November that everything you were depended on Shido’s goodwill. That’s definitely duress, Goro.” He leaned their foreheads together. “You deserve a second chance. It wasn’t just Shido; there was a _god_ manipulating you behind the scenes. You never really had a first chance. You don’t need jail, you need _help_.”

“Jail is what I deserve, though.” Goro leaned into him, eyes closed and voice hopeless.

“He’s not going to jail.” 

A redheaded woman had appeared at the top of the stairs, looking them all over with a calculating gaze. “Akechi Goro, you are being taken into the custody of the Shadow Operatives, effective immediately.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Sae said, and Goro’s eyes widened as he realized that all three of them, Sojiro, Akira, and Sae, had moved instinctively to be between him and the newcomer. He swallowed hard; no one had ever tried to defend him like that before. He didn’t know what to think.

Sojiro frowned, not waiting for the woman to answer Sae’s question. “Kirijo-san. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.”

“I didn’t think you would still be involved, after Isshiki-san’s death,” the woman countered. “We looked into you, and determined that you were living a quiet life running a cafe. I should have known you were harboring the Thieves from the start.” To the other three, she said, “I am Kirijo Mitsuru, head of the Shadow Operatives. We are the branch of the national police that deals with shadow and meta-space related incidents.”

Akira and Goro exchanged an incredulous look. But despite a hundred questions coming to mind -- _Where have you been?_ being the most prominent -- Akira simply asked sharply, “What do you want with Goro?”

“The regular police will most likely be unable to deal with someone like him, even if he turns himself in,” Mitsuru said. “Shido has enough crimes that were committed outside of meta-space that he will still end up in prison for a long time. But Akechi-kun has operated almost entirely outside of reality. It’s likely that no one will believe what he did, even if we gave the general public access to Isshiki Wakaba’s research. That has happened before. A culprit was convicted of the murders he committed, but was then passed on to us, because the courts could not determine exactly how it was done despite his confession.”

Sojiro scowled. “So what are you going to do, exactly? Keep him locked up like that other guy from Inaba? He’s a kid, and I’d be willing to bet you don’t know the whole situation here, if you’re just stepping in at the end.”

Mitsuru fixed him with a pointed stare, and Akira could swear he felt the room temperature drop. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Arsène murmured _ice elemental_ , and he took a breath. Of course someone who dealt with shadows would be a persona-user.

“One of my own specifically requested that we take him into special custody. And as the Shadow Operatives have authority in times of meta-space-related crises, I’m fully within legal regulations to do so. If you require Kurusu-kun to testify against Shido, so be it, but Akechi-kun is coming with me.”

“...and if I refuse?” Goro said, very softly.

Mitsuru’s sharp expression didn’t change. “This isn’t a choice, Akechi-kun.”

He swallowed hard, lacing his fingers with Akira’s. “...very well.” If there was one thing he was used to, it was following orders. And this was what he deserved. He certainly wouldn’t let a group as suspicious as the Shadow Operatives take Akira in his place.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Mitsuru gestured to the stairs. “You will be allowed to return to your apartment and pack anything that you will require, within reason, and then we will be leaving.”

For the first time all evening, Akira looked hesitant. “W-Wait, please.” His hand tightened around Goro’s, and Goro squeezed back, shifting to be closer to him.

“What?” Mitsuru asked, looking them both over, and Akira looked at the floor.

“Can’t I… Can’t we have Christmas, at least?” he said quietly. He wanted to yell, to object, to throw them all out, Mitsuru and Sae and everyone alike. But he was so tired, so drained, all he could do was ask. And hope.

Mitsuru found herself softening, thinking of another Wild Card that had once spent Christmas without the person he cared about. She sighed. After everything that these kids had been through, she couldn’t bear to make this harder for them than it already was. “I can come back and pick him up tomorrow. Noon, at the absolute latest. But I cannot speak for Niijima-san.”

Sae shook her head fondly. “I can wait that long as well. But no longer, all right?”

Akira nodded weakly. “Thank you…”

“On that note, Niijima-san, there’s something I’d like to speak with you about,” Mitsuru said, and the two women disappeared down the stairs, leaving just Sojiro and the two boys behind. Without a word, Sojiro walked over and dragged Akira into a rough hug.

“Damn it, kid,” he said gruffly. “You just keep getting yourself into this shit.”

Akira hugged him back tightly. “I know. I didn’t mean to, this time.”

Goro had taken a step back, to be out of the way, but was caught off-guard when Sojiro released his ward and turned to hug him as well. His eyes flew wide, and he just froze, uncertain what to do or how to react.

“I don’t know a whole lot about Kirijo-san, but if she doesn’t take care of you, I’m damn well coming to get you. Do you understand?” Sojiro said, and that spurred Goro to finally, tentatively return the hug.

“O-Okay…”

It was strange, to finally feel so wanted. And of course, it wasn’t going to last. He wasn’t really surprised at this point.

It was what he deserved.

***

Sae followed Mitsuru out into Yongen curiously, wondering what the leader of the mysterious Shadow Operatives could possibly have to say. So she was caught off-guard when Mitsuru turned on her heel and said pointedly, “You have to take care of Kurusu-kun.”

“...what?” Sae asked dumbly. That seemed a bit hypocritical, coming from the people that were taking Akechi away from him to places unknown, but she was willing to listen, at least.

Mitsuru frowned. “I mean it. You have to take care of that boy. He’s…” She hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain. “They told you about meta-space, and personas, yes?”

Sae nodded. “The basics, at least.”

“Kurusu is what we call a Wild Card, a persona-user who draws strength from his bonds with others to wield multiple personas. Taking anyone away from their support system after a crisis like this would be bad enough, but someone who literally gains his strength from others? It could prove extremely damaging to him.” Mitsuru’s gaze was absolutely serious. “Solitary confinement would be a cruelty beyond what you can imagine. I understand that you need his testimony, but he has been through entirely too much already.”

“We could say the same of Akechi-kun,” Sae said coolly. “From what I understand, he’s the same as Kurusu-kun. Am I to assume that you are going to take care of him, when you’ve taken him into ‘custody’ for his crimes?”

“This is our specialty,” Mitsuru replied. “Rest assured, Akechi-kun will be well taken care of, but I am aware of what he has done, and it cannot just be left unaddressed. We are the best people to address it.”

Sae sighed. It was hard to argue with that. “...if I do not hear from him, I will come after all of you to get him back. I want actual reassurance that he is safe and taken care of, from him. Do you understand?”

Mitsuru nodded. “I understand your concern. I will make sure that you hear from him.” It was easy to tell how reluctant Sae was, but this wasn’t negotiable. There had to be consequences for taking advantage of meta-space in the way that Akechi had. And if reality’s consequences were not going to be appropriate, theirs would.

***

After Sojiro left them alone in the attic, neither boy said anything for a long time. There had been too much emotional whiplash for one day. Despair and fear and hope and fear and optimism...and now back to sadness again.

“It’s not too late to run for it,” Akira said, only half-joking as he tugged a pajama shirt over his head. They could pack up Akira’s room and be gone in ten minutes, assuming the Shadow Operatives weren’t watching the cafe. Although it would be a shame, since this was his first night back in his room in over a month. And then Shido might get away with everything, and that wasn’t an option.

He heard a choked noise behind him and turned around as Goro tried to muffle a sob into his hands. He crossed the room in a second, drawing him in close.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, reaching up to wipe at the tears rolling down Goro’s cheeks. “We’re going to be okay. They promised. Niijima-san’s going to take care of us.”

“It’s just not fair,” Goro said weakly. “I finally feel like I have something worth keeping, something real, and it’s going to be taken away. _Again_. That thing is dead, and Shido’s been arrested, and they’re still taking everything from me. Are we sure it’s not just something about _me_ that means I can’t have anything that makes me happy? I know that I don’t deserve it after what I’ve done, but...”

Akira leaned in to kiss him, soft and slow. “You’ll be okay,” he promised gently. “There are people that care about you now, and if Sojiro and Sae don’t hear from you, they will come after you. You know they will. And the second I get out of juvie, I’m coming after you too. Wherever you are, they’re not keeping you away from me. Never again.”

Goro lunged forward to bury his face in the crook of Akira’s neck, arms tight around him. It took a minute, but somehow Akira managed to get them into bed, running his fingers gently through his touch-starved boyfriend’s hair. They would be okay. 

_The whole world is based on what each person sees and feels._

As long as he kept believing, they would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was 10,000 words and me, Akira, and Goro are all emotionally exhausted. X'D
> 
> I've got a lot of thoughts about Satanael that can basically be summed up as "Akira got him before he was supposed to." So the way I'm handling this is that Satanael is his ultimate, but he didn't exactly unlock it on his own. The willpower of the public helped force it temporarily so they could take out Yald. (That's also why he was so big.) Akira's World card in the game basically seemed like an afterthought, and I've got some more thoughts on Akira's personal journey not being finished, so...we'll see.
> 
> This was even worse than writing Izanami. Cripes. I'm never doing a finale this large ever again. I'm grateful that I got to toss in a bunch of things I've wanted to use, but ugghhhhhh. The sheer scale was overwhelming. X'''DDD
> 
> Next chapter: I haven't decided whether I'm doing Christmas in one chapter or two, yet, but either way... Things aren't over for these kids yet. But it's not long 'til the end of this monstrosity now.


	55. December 25th, 2016

Akira, by some miracle, woke first the next morning. Christmas Day was soft and snowy outside of his window, but in their corner of the attic, everything was warm. Goro was wrapped around him like a koala, head still buried in the crook of his neck, and Akira felt a pang when he saw how comfortable he looked. That was going to end in just a few hours, but for now he wanted it to last for as long as he could.

Goro made an unhappy noise when he tried to slip out of bed, clinging tighter, but Akira pacified him with a kiss to his temple and a whispered promise to come back. He wasn’t sure if his boyfriend actually heard him, but the grip on his pajamas slackened and he was able to get up at last. After a trip downstairs to rub the sleep from his eyes and at least attempt to be functional, he returned to the attic and started digging through his things. One of Goro’s overnight bags was still here somewhere, and a few of his clothes. The least Akira could do was pick up his things for him so he could sleep in for now.

Once that was done and he was assured that neither of them would have to move until the last minute, he checked his phone. There was just one message in the group chat, from Ann, reminding them to meet at Leblanc at 2 for the party, and Akira bit his lip and set the phone aside again. He slipped back into bed, unable to keep back a smile at the way Goro immediately latched back onto him.

“What time is it?” Goro whispered, sounding groggy, and Akira kissed the top of his head.

“We’ve got a few hours. It’s okay,” he soothed, pulling him as close as he could. “Hey, Goro.”

“Hm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Goro was quiet, and just when Akira was starting to wonder if he was upset, or if he had dozed back off, he said softly, “It’s strange, but...ah… Even with everything that has to happen, this might still be the best Christmas morning I’ve ever had. Merry Christmas, Akira.”

It was heartbreaking to think that the bar was so low that something as simple as cuddles qualified as the best Christmas, but Akira didn’t say anything about it, just ran his fingers through Goro’s hair gently. “Are you okay?”

“As okay as one can be when they only have a few hours of freedom left. I’d imagine you feel the same,” Goro muttered. He buried his face in Akira’s chest, and added, muffled, “I have wished a lot this year that time would stop. And every time, it’s been because I want to be able to spend one more hour in your arms.”

Akira barely knew what to say to that, and just clutched him tighter. Goro did the same, and they curled even closer, neither of them willing to admit how afraid they were.

“Is it too late to say ‘don’t go with them’?” Akira asked, and Goro shook his head.

“Of course not. But there isn’t a choice, Akira. I can’t run away from this.” There would never be any peace if they tried to flee. After seeing what Kirijo-san was like, there was no way the Shadow Operatives would ever let them go. “Just...don’t leave until we have to.”

“I won’t,” Akira promised.

They stayed like that, absorbing as much of each other’s presence as they could, until Akira’s alarm finally went off to warn them that it would be noon in half an hour. Getting dressed in silence, Akira passed Goro the bag that he’d packed and cut off his phone to leave it on his desk. It wasn’t going to be allowed where he was going anyway. They both went downstairs, where Sojiro was waiting with food for both of them.

“I’m going to make sure that you get a good meal, at least,” he said, setting a full plate of curry in front of each of them as they settled into a booth.

“Thank you, Boss,” Goro said quietly.

Sojiro folded his arms, taking in how both of them seemed to be huddling together without realizing they were doing it. “Akira, have you decided what you’re going to say to the police?”

Akira swallowed an oversized bite of curry. “As much as they’ll believe, I guess.” A melancholy expression crossed his face. “We’ll just have to see how much that is.” 

***

In the end, it became a waiting game to see who arrived first. It turned out to be Sae, who showed up at five minutes to noon looking perfectly professional, but with clear compassion in her demeanor. She waited patiently as Akira hugged both Goro and Sojiro, putting on a smile and reassuring both of them that he would be okay before following her out to the car. But she could tell that he was anxious, and as they were stopped at a red light, she looked over to where he was hunched in the passenger seat, hands clenched tightly and shoulders trembling with nerves.

“Kurusu-kun,” she said gently, raising an eyebrow as he startled and then quickly smoothed the fear from his expression. “It’s all right. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I’m more worried about Goro,” Akira managed, trying for a normal tone, and Sae sighed. Of course he was. She hadn’t known him for very long, but his tendency to worry about others before himself was screamingly obvious from the moment he’d been prepared to accept the death penalty rather than give up his teammates, no matter how afraid he was.

“I’m worried about him, too,” she admitted, and Akira ducked his head so she couldn’t read his expression.

He was silent for the rest of the ride to the precinct, and she walked in with him to discuss things with the police on duty. His fingerprints and mugshot were already in the system, and once they’d confirmed his identity he was walked to a significantly more open interrogation room on the second floor. There were windows, and he wasn’t cuffed to anything. Sae put a hand on his shoulder and explained quietly, “They will send someone in to take your statement. I’ve given them my notes from before, so you’ll probably be asked about what happened from November to now, mostly. Just be as honest as you can, and let me worry about everything else.”

Akira nodded, his expression blank, but once she was gone he sank into one of the chairs and chewed on his lip. He couldn’t relax. His gaze darted anxiously around the room, picking out the complete lack of security cameras. Not that the cameras had done much good last time, but the fact that they were gone completely was causing his stomach to tie itself in knots. No one was watching, no one was going to help him if things went the way that they did before.

He was so wound up that when the door opened, he jumped a bit. A detective that he didn’t recognize and an officer walked in, taking seats on the opposite side of the table, and the detective opened up a folder that Akira vaguely recognized from the last interrogation.

“Now then, Kurusu-kun,” the detective said. “You acted as the leader of the Phantom Thieves that undermined our society, correct?”

Akira’s eyes widened. That was the farthest thing from an impartial question. He knew that reality resetting was going to mean that people probably wouldn’t remember details from Christmas Eve, but to have the investigators already against him from the first question? He swallowed the lump in his throat, unwilling to let it go even though he knew it could be dangerous to provoke them, and said as firmly as he could, “We helped society.”

“Just answer the question. We have a lot to get through,” the detective replied dismissively, and Akira scowled.

“I’m not answering a question when it’s phrased to make me sound like a monster or a terrorist,” he hissed.

“As the leader of the Phantom Thieves, you committed a number of crimes. Breaking and entering, destruction of property, illegally interfering with a broadcast signal,” the man continued, as if he hadn’t even spoken. “Plus, you have a previous criminal history.”

“That was a false charge,” Akira said. “Are you going to ask about what actually happened with Shido?”

“It has already been decided that you will be transported to a juvenile hall, where you will serve time for your current crimes as well as breaking your probation.”

Akira felt like he was far away from himself, watching from above as these people told him that his fate was already decided. They said something about him testifying against Shido and possibly receiving a lighter sentence, but he could barely hear them over the rushing in his ears. They weren’t listening. This was just like before. Any answers that he gave would just be used to make him look like a criminal; was there even any point in talking about Shido?

“Kurusu-kun, are you going to cooperate, or not?”

The detective looked annoyed now, and Akira flinched, shutting his eyes. The windows were gone, the light was harsh from a single bulb; he was back in that interrogation room, they were going to drug him, hurt him, break his legs…!

The door opened, and two more people entered. Akira barely registered them, pressing his hands over his mouth and trying to calm his ragged breathing, but the detective and the other officer both looked up. “Who are you? We’re in the middle of questioning.”

“Dojima Ryotaro. I’m here on loan from Inaba, since I’ve seen strange events like this before,” one of the men said. “Now, are you going to actually let this kid answer your questions, or are you just going to keep berating him? Because I know all about what he’s been through, and he has absolutely no reason to be cooperative with you at all, considering how you people treated him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Actually, me and my friend here are taking over this questioning. Official orders from the interim leadership, since the SIU director is missing and half the top brass are suspected of being in cahoots with Shido.” Dojima passed the detective a document, and he looked it over before getting up with a huff.

“Fine, but don’t expect help if you can’t get him to answer you properly, either.” He stalked out of the room with the officer at his heels, and Akira tried to focus on the newcomers through his anxiety.

“What kind of dumbass doesn’t notice that somebody’s having an anxiety attack?” Dojima sighed.

“Kurusu-kun?” The other detective, who hadn’t given his name, came over to stand in front of Akira and look at him with concern. He felt strange, and Akira recoiled a bit, unable to place whether it was a negative or positive feeling through the panic coiling in his gut. But the man didn’t seem angry. He didn’t move, watching Akira’s expression attentively, and then said gently, “We’re here to help you. Kirijo-san sent us.”

“You’re one of those Wild Cards, right? You can talk to us,” Dojima said.

Akira’s eyes widened. “You know about--?” His voice came out as a rasp, and he tried to take a deep breath.

The other detective smiled. “We do. His nephew is one. And so am I.” He offered Akira a hand. “My name is Suou Katsuya. It’s nice to meet one of the newest Wild Cards.”

Akira reeled at the idea of not just an adult persona-user, but an adult Wild Card. “How… How many of us are there?” He stared at the hand, but didn’t take it.

Katsuya considered for a moment, seeming unoffended by the refusal of the handshake. “...at least fifteen Wild Cards,” he said, and Akira nearly fell off his chair. “But only three are Fools. And that’s just the awakened ones. Most of them don’t get involved in the conflicts anymore, but when Kirijo Mitsuru personally requests your help…”

“You answer,” Dojima finished. “She’s a pretty formidable lady.”

Akira looked down at his lap, twisting his fingers together nervously. “...you’ll actually listen, if I tell you everything that happened?”

“Of course we will,” Katsuya said. He pushed the folder across the table towards Akira. “Look over Niijima-san’s notes, and tell us if anything needs to be corrected, and then we just need to know what happened after the Okumura incident. We know you were drugged before and couldn’t recall everything clearly.”

“If we know everything, we can work to get you out of here sooner,” Dojima explained. “You’ll get a hearing for breaking your probation, and we can fight there, even before Shido’s trial, but you’ll have to go to juvie for at least a while.”

“I knew what I was getting into,” Akira said quietly.

Dojima rounded the table to pat him on the shoulder. “You’re a brave kid. We’ll make sure you’re okay. Just don’t worry.”

This guy reminded him a little bit of Sojiro, and while he couldn’t say he trusted the Shadow Operatives, these two seemed nice enough. He wanted to believe that they could help him. So he swallowed down his remaining anxiety and forced himself to start reading over the notes. Getting Shido convicted for his crimes was the important part here.

That, and knowing that Goro was going to be okay. But he could spin that easily, knowing what had happened on the ship. They’d fought Shido’s puppet, and he’d died. All that was left was the boy that Akira loved, the one that regretted his actions deeply.

Time to start counting the days until he could leave this place and get his boyfriend back.

***

_‘Don’t go with them.’_ If only it were that easy. He’d gone without a fight when Kirijo Mitsuru showed up at Leblanc and he was told it was time to leave. He went with her back to his apartment, packed the rest of his few belongings that he might need, and followed her to the train station, because if there was one thing he could do, it was follow orders. And he deserved this.

Goro could honestly say he had no idea where they were, when they finally got off the train. He’d heard the name of the little city, but it held no meaning to him. All he was certain of was that they had traveled a fair way from Tokyo, and that being escorted by the head of the Shadow Operatives personally probably wasn’t a good sign.

Mitsuru didn’t cuff him, likely to avoid any strange looks as she led him through the city, and he carried his duffle bag in silence, knowing there was no point in asking questions. He’d tried, during the first leg of the train journey, and had gotten nowhere. She’d confiscated his phone and laptop, too, so in the end all he could do was stare out the window and try to stay calm.

They approached a four-story building in an older style, with ivy growing on the side of it and worn stone steps. Mitsuru indicated him to go first, and he obeyed wordlessly, even though stepping through the door felt as ominous as if he’d walked into a conventional prison. Even the festive Christmas lights strung all over the outside did nothing to settle his nerves. There was no guarantee that the Shadow Operatives were going to treat him any better than a regular prison. At least there were regulations for how regular prisons operated. Maybe they’d lied to Akira. Maybe they were just going to make him disappear.

There was a blue-haired man leaning against the front desk casually just inside the entrance, and Goro hesitated. He vaguely recognized him from the aftermath of everything, somewhere in the crowd, but before he could grasp the memory properly, Mitsuru nudged him the rest of the way into the room and addressed the other man.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” the man replied, storm-colored eyes never leaving Goro. “It’s what’s best.”

“Very well.” Mitsuru stepped around to face Goro, her gaze stern. “Don’t cause any trouble. You’re lucky that we have the authority to do this, but we can send you away easily if you are a problem.”

_I wonder if this is how Akira felt,_ Goro thought hysterically. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and watched as Mitsuru bid farewell to the other man and then just left him there alone in a strange city.

The other man stretched, then beckoned Goro to follow him. “Welcome to Iwatodai,” he said lazily. “Did Mitsuru tell you anything about what you’re doing here?”

“N-No,” Goro said. He didn’t trust this man’s casual attitude. “She just brought me here and refused to answer my questions.”

“Mitsuru’s got to put up a pretty strong front as the head of the Shadow Operatives, but she’s not so bad,” the man said. He stopped at the bottom of a set of stairs, gesturing down the hall. “The dining room and kitchen are through there, and the living room. My husband will be back later this evening, and our other two residents should be home eventually.”

“Your...husband?” Goro asked. Why was he being shown these rooms like he’d be allowed in them?

“Yeah. Ryoji’s cool; you’ll like him. Oh. I guess I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m Arisato Minato.” The man started up the stairs, and Goro followed, not knowing what else to do. The name meant nothing to him; he didn’t know if he was supposed to recognize it or not.

When they reached the second floor, he was shown a door that apparently led to “Ken-kun and Koromaru’s room”, plus the door just past it that was Minato and his supposed husband’s room, and then they were continuing up to the third floor.

“Mitsuru wanted you up here because you’d be less likely to climb out the window or something,” Minato said offhandedly. “I told her you’d be fine, but whatever.” He opened one of the doors on the hallway and stood to one side. “This is your room.”

Goro took a step inside, looking around in disbelief. The room was sparse, with a bed, a dresser, a small closet, and a desk. A beam of sunlight shone through a gap in the curtains, leaving a brightly-lit rectangle on the faded rug in the center of the wooden floor. It was a nice room, light and homely, with a warmth that his equally-bare apartment back in Tokyo had been sorely lacking. And there wasn’t a single bar or camera or any type of security measure in sight. Goro bowed his head, confused and frustrated and so _tired_ of being led on.

“What is this?” he whispered.

“Hm?” Minato tilted his head curiously. “This is your room, for while you’re staying here.”

“Why are you _giving_ me a _room?_ ” Goro demanded, starting to shake with anger and anxiety as he continued to stare at the floor. “What _is_ this? Why am I here? Why are you pretending I’m some sort of _guest_ or something and not a prisoner?!”

Understanding dawned, as Minato realized that Goro was apparently metaphorically waiting for the guillotine’s blade to fall. He shook his head. “You’re _not_ a prisoner. There will be rules, but we’re not going to lock you up.”

“But _why?_ Why would you do this for me? What...do you want with me…?” Goro’s voice got weaker and weaker, and he slumped, duffle bag dropping to the floor with a muted thud.

“Take a few minutes. Breathe,” Minato said softly. “I’ll be downstairs in the living room when you’re ready to talk, and I’ll explain everything. Okay?”

Goro hesitantly nodded his assent, and Minato left him there to collect himself. He looked around the room, baffled, anxiety still clawing at him mercilessly, and finally sat down on the bed. _His_ bed, apparently.

There had to be a catch. No one would just give him space to live without some kind of catch; that was how the world worked. These people weren’t _Akira_ and his ridiculous, world-spanning capability for forgiveness; they had to want something from him. It was just a matter of figuring out _what_. But no matter what it was, he wasn’t sure he was willing to give it. He’d given enough to Shido, in return for lodgings and schooling and the chance to one day break him, and _oh_ , how well that had gone. He didn’t really have anything left to give, at this point.

He was so tired.

***

When he made it downstairs after halfheartedly unpacking a few things and changing clothes, he found Minato exactly where he’d said he would be, flipping idly through the TV channels in the living room. He gritted his teeth, braced himself, and walked over to sit down on the opposite end of the couch from the blue-haired man.

“I want to know what you people want from me.”

Minato took a deep breath and cut the TV off before turning to face him. “Why do you assume that we want something from you?” he asked mildly.

Goro scowled. “Because you’re not a charity. You’re some sort of supernatural police. Your boss even said that I was being taken into custody. There’s no way that you’ve just brought me here to live in _peace and quiet_ after what I’ve done. And no one has ever just _given_ me a place to stay without expecting something.”

“You’re right,” Minato acknowledged. “You’re here for a reason. This is an opportunity to correct things that went wrong all around.” He settled into the couch, the picture of relaxation save for folded arms and sharp, attentive eyes. “Wild Cards like us are meant to be guided, as we shape our own fates and the fate of the world around us. That’s how it’s always worked. But you were never given proper guidance or balance, and it turned you into the person you are now. So this is your second chance.”

“...what do you mean?” Goro asked tentatively. This man sounded like Akira, talking like that. And he’d said ‘us’. He was a Wild Card, too?

“I want to help you learn to harness your proper potential,” Minato said. “Learn how to work with your personas, learn what arcanas you have an affinity for, give you a chance to become whatever you should have become without the influence of the demiurge.”

_Help?_ Goro stared down at his hands where they gripped handfuls of his shirt, uncertain what to say. That didn’t sound even remotely like a punishment. It sounded too good for someone like him, too much kindness. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Minato, but asked quietly, “What’s the catch?”

“Catch?”

“You have to know what I’ve done. You can’t seriously intend to give me all of this without punishing me for my past crimes.”

Minato hummed thoughtfully. “Well…” he mused. “You are on house arrest, unless you have a chaperone, until I have a better idea of your overall personality. And you have to take this seriously, otherwise I’ll call Mitsuru and you can absolutely go to jail for what you did. But based on everything I heard from Lady Belladonna about your situation, yeah, I can give you a safe place to try to be better. I know what it’s like.”

“How could you possibly know what my situation was like?” Goro demanded, mortified to realize that his eyes were stinging with tears that he desperately tried to hold back.

“I was an orphan, too,” Minato said quietly, and Goro made a choked, startled noise. “I know how bad it can be. I had someone with me, to help make it bearable, and I still ended up numb and indifferent. I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like facing that alone.” He watched Goro struggle to speak for a moment, and continued, “We don’t have to talk about that now. I just wanted you to know. But those are the rules here: no leaving the dorm, take this second chance seriously, and…” He paused, then, “And you won’t be allowed to see or contact any of the Phantom Thieves, including Kurusu-kun.”

Goro laughed bleakly. “Akira’s in _jail;_ I couldn’t see him anyway.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem,” Minato said, but there was something knowing in his eyes. He looked Goro over, then, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not the sort of thing I would have expected you to wear, from what I’ve heard.”

Goro flushed, looking down at himself. It wasn’t his shirt; it was the red hoodie with gold stars that Akira had lent him once. The other boy had snuck it into the bottom of Goro’s bag, along with one of the glow-stars from the ceiling and a note teasingly admonishing his lack of casual clothes of his own. And while Goro was a little embarrassed, he was mostly grateful, because it smelled like Leblanc and Akira. “It was a gift,” he said simply, and Minato nodded.

“I’m making dinner when Ryoji gets home. Is there anything in particular that you like?”

Having a choice when someone else was cooking was a new experience, and Goro shook his head. “I’m not...particularly picky. I have no real preferences.”

Minato nodded. “All right, then. Well, you’re free to look around or whatever you want. Come find me if you have any questions.”

Goro got up, stuffed his hands in the hoodie’s pouch pocket, and dipped his head in acknowledgement before walking away as quickly as he could. This was so much to take in, but he figured he at least needed to know the layout of the place that was going to be his...prison? Lodging? ...home?

He found the kitchen easily enough after walking through the dining room, and poked around in the cabinets, learning where the dishes were and where they kept the silverware and chopsticks. There seemed to be plenty of food and ingredients, and he was grateful, because he had a feeling Minato wasn’t going to keep cooking for him after tonight. That would be absurd.

As he came back down the hall to head for the stairs, he eyed the faintly-glowing blue door suspiciously, but didn’t dare touch it. The Velvet Room didn’t hold any good memories for him, not really, though he did find it strange that this place apparently had its own personal door.

Upstairs, he bypassed the room apparently belonging to Ken and Koromaru, as well as Minato’s, and checked through the others curiously. The other three were bedrooms, each with a few scattered possessions despite Minato not mentioning any other residents, plus a hall bathroom, which fit Minato describing this place as a dorm.

The third floor, other than his room, was all empty bedrooms except for the bathroom and the larger room at the end of the hall that had seemingly been converted to an entertainment space. There were a few bookshelves, a reading corner, a large TV with a game system hooked up to it, and a table with a few chairs and a cabinet of board games. It was all so normal that Goro felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he hurried up to the fourth floor, giving the gym-like area and the locked door he found a brief glance before retreating back to his own room.

It wasn’t too late to go out the window. Kirijo-san was sorely mistaken if she thought the third floor was going to deter a former metaverse assassin and phantom thief. He’d jumped off of taller things in the past. Hell, he’d used a trapeze to leap onto the top of a circus tent. There was nothing he couldn’t do. But as he stared at his few belongings, the clothes he hadn’t put away yet, the empty desk, he sighed. Even if he did go out the window, where was he going to go? He would be alone and helpless again. At least here he had a space he could call his own, with only the thinnest of strings attached, and at least one person who seemed to care about him, for whatever reason.

He decided to keep himself busy putting his clothes away. The longer he spent just thinking, the more appealing it was to ball up in bed and refuse to come out, and who knew what kind of punishment that would bring? Arisato-san claimed he wasn’t a prisoner, but he was sure that attitude wouldn’t last long if he didn’t behave like they expected.

Why would it?

***

When he finally worked up the nerve to venture back downstairs, he followed the sounds of dishes to the kitchen, where Minato was stirring something in a large bowl. There was a skillet on the stove behind him, and Goro froze, his brain locking up without permission.

“How do you like your pancakes?” Minato asked. “Ryoji likes the edges crispy, but I can make them fluffier if you’d prefer. This isn’t the usual sort of thing we have for dinner, but after the past two days I figured something easy would be best. We can have real food tomorrow.”

Goro stared at him, consumed by the memory of Akira trying to make him pancakes that first time. They’d been so puffy they were still raw in the middle in spots, but he hadn’t truly minded at all despite his protests. “You’re...really cooking for me?” he asked, trying to beat the memory back.

Minato shrugged. “I cook for everyone in the house. I mean, if you’d rather make your own meals, that’s fine, but I usually make breakfast and dinner. You live here, now. We’re going to take care of you.”

To his embarrassment, between memories of Akira and the overwhelming idea of living in a home where he wasn’t ignored and deprived of food, Goro could feel his mask cracking. He tried valiantly to keep it together, but a sob burst from him before he could stop it, and Minato abandoned the bowl of pancake batter to come over and drag him into a hug.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Minato wasn’t any taller than him, but somehow Goro felt small with the other Wild Card holding onto him. “I know this is a lot.”

“It’s _stupid_ ,” Goro snarled, but he didn’t let go of his death-grip on Minato’s shirt, huffing against his shoulder.

Minato didn’t move, just held him tightly. “What’s stupid?”

Goro choked on a half-laugh, half-sob. “All of those homes and institutions, all of those people who were _supposed_ to take care of me, and the person that finally does is the one that’s essentially my jailer, who isn’t related to me or obligated to take care of me at all. What’s _wrong_ with everything?”

“There’s a lot wrong,” Minato said quietly. “That’s why we have to try to make things better where we can.”

There was the sound of the front door opening, and after a minute a dark-haired man poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey, Mina, did the kid get h--” He stopped at the sight of Goro, who was even more mortified at someone _else_ seeing him in this state, but Minato just waved the other man towards the unfinished batter and walked Goro towards the living room. He didn’t ask Goro to talk, didn’t scold him for his breakdown, just got them both on the couch and cut on some subtitled American Christmas movie while Goro got himself under control again.

Once he’d stopped crying like some sort of idiot child, Goro took a breath, looking down at his hands as he asked quietly, “Can I help with dinner at all?”

Minato smiled. “You can get the plates out, if you want. We’ll need four.”

He was certain that aside from him, Minato had mentioned three other people living in the dorm, but he didn’t ask questions, heading for the kitchen. The dark-haired man that he assumed was Minato’s husband was still in there, washing a bowl of strawberries, but he stopped when Goro stepped into the kitchen and ducked his head politely.

“Ah, I apologize for my outburst earlier, Arisato-san. My name is Akechi Goro…”

The dark-haired man stared at him with a look of such starry-eyed wonder that Goro wondered if he was quite right in the head. He covered his mouth with his hands, unable to completely hide the absolutely beaming smile he wore, and shook his head quickly. “Ah, no, it’s… It’s not legal, yet, um. I’m Mochizuki Ryoji. But...if you wanted to call me Arisato, I certainly wouldn’t object!”

Goro blinked. “...Mochizuki-san,” he said, very slowly. “To keep from confusing you with him, I think.” He put on his best television smile, and added, “I didn’t realize. Arisato-san referred to you as his husband; I simply assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Ryoji said, still smiling. “It’s good to meet you. Did Minato explain everything?”

“Yes, for the most part.” Goro went into the cabinet to pull out plates, and then, thinking it over, grabbed forks and knives as well. “I’m...still a bit confused, but it’s nothing I can’t handle for now.”

“Just try not to worry.” Ryoji turned back to his strawberries. “We want you to be comfortable here. And it’ll probably take a while, but I promise. Things will be okay.”

Goro clutched the plates tighter. “...things won’t be okay as long as Akira is in jail in my place,” he muttered, and left the kitchen to set the table, not waiting to see what Ryoji had to say in response.

***

Dinner was...interesting. Goro met the last members of the little household, a boy called Amada Ken that was just barely a year older than him, as well as Koromaru, who to his surprise was Ken’s dog, not his roommate. Conversation was light, carefully avoiding heavier topics like what had happened in Tokyo. Instead, they told Goro about what Iwatodai was like and what he could expect while living there. People were kind, and didn’t ask a lot of questions.

He also learned that the Velvet attendants that had been locked out of the room while the false god had taken over had lived here, which explained the possessions in the other rooms. He didn’t particularly want to talk about the Velvet Room, though, and as soon as dinner was finished he thanked them and fled to his room. Minato and Ryoji wordlessly agreed to let him go, knowing it had been a rough day for him.

Minato looked over while they were washing dishes, raising an eyebrow at the stupid grin on Ryoji’s face. “What?”

Ryoji giggled. “We’re parents,” he said, drying a plate with a flourish.

“Oh no.” Minato shook his head quickly. “We are not parents. No. That is not what this is.”

“Oh, come on, we practically raised Ken-kun. We might as well be his parents,” Ryoji laughed. “And Goro-kun needs it, I think.”

Minato sighed. “...that’s why I asked Mitsuru to have him sent here. I feel bad that we’ve taken him away from Kurusu-kun, but...he needs space. To figure himself out and get used to being something new. And sometimes you can’t do that when everything around you is familiar.”

Ryoji’s expression faded to something more thoughtful. “To here, to Inaba, to Tokyo… Is that what you’re thinking?”

“A bit.” Minato shrugged. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t add that I don’t think jail would have helped.”

“So we’re gonna kill him with kindness instead?”

“...maybe don’t put it like that.”

“...okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> I've said all along that I've known how Christmas was going to go from the beginning. This is how Christmas is going to go. I know I made the kids sad, but really, there wasn't any other way this could have gone. Redeemed or not, Goro did...a lot of things wrong, and he's still not okay. Akira isn't either, but they will be.
> 
> Next chapter: We're out of canon, technically, so this is my show now. Akira's handling prison about as well as can be expected, and Goro... Goro's going to learn that just because his new guardians are nice, doesn't mean he can push them but so far...


	56. December 28th, 2016 - January 2nd, 2017

It took three days, one hour, and twenty-seven minutes for Goro to snap under the nonexistent pressure of his new living arrangements.

Minato and Ryoji had been expecting it. They were letting him have a week to acclimate to his new surroundings before throwing him into any sort of recovery, but Belladonna had given them enough of an outline of what Goro’s life had been like, plus he’d been creeping around the dorm as if terrified of doing something wrong. He was stressing himself out when he was already wound so tightly; it was just a matter of time, and that time turned out to be 4:33 in the afternoon.

“I’d like my phone back, please,” their new charge said, the epitome of politeness as he stepped into the living room. “Kirijo-san gave it to you, yes? I assure you, the meta-nav is gone. I can no longer do any damage with it, and wouldn’t want to.”

Minato took in the fake plastic smile on his face, well-aware that he was testing boundaries. “The...nav?... is gone, yes, but you’re still not allowed contact with anyone outside of Iwatodai.”

“This is ridiculous,” Goro huffed. “I’d simply like to be able to keep up with the news in the aftermath of everything that happened. You don’t even have the authority to keep me here.”

“We do have a television, with news channels,” Minato pointed out. “And, we do have authority. Being a semi-official branch of the government does that.”

“You’re not even real police!” Goro shouted, and both older persona-users raised an eyebrow at how easily his honest feelings had broken through. That was a good sign, actually, even though it meant he was probably _very_ stressed, and Goro kept yelling, “You’re keeping me here without a trial, without charges; this is basically kidnapping! You have to let me go!”

Ryoji glanced at Minato, whose even expression hadn’t wavered. “And where would you go?” Minato asked coolly. “You don’t have the means to live on your own, and you run the risk of being thrown in prison for real.”

Goro stomped his foot, agitated. “That would be better than this!” he cried. “At least then I would know what to expect! Not this waiting, wondering when I’m finally going to screw up and you’re going to stop this act of being nice to me!” Better to make them mad now and just get it over with, when he was prepared, rather than step on a landmine later. He was losing his mind slowly. At least he hadn’t lived with Shido. He’d barely _seen_ Shido, and rarely had to talk to him directly. But now he was here, in this building, with other people around all the time, and he didn’t know what would upset them or how they expected him to act. It was too much.

“No one’s acting,” Ryoji said, leaning forward on the couch. He was concerned; this was a bit worse than they had been anticipating. “Can’t you just believe that? We want to help you.”

“You’re ridiculous. You can’t make me stay here. Neither of you could stop me from walking out that door right now!” Goro insisted. He stormed towards the front door, but as he yanked it open, there was a tremendous gust of wind from somewhere behind him, ripping the door from his grip and slamming it shut again. He blinked, then turned around very slowly.

Minato had gotten up and was standing beside the couch, watching him lazily with his hands in his pockets, and his eyes were glowing the same color as the residents of the Velvet Room. Goro took a step back, bumping into the door with wide eyes. “W-Was that…” He wasn’t hallucinating. That had been wind. Real, physical wind. Garula, in the real world. What was going on?

Minato didn’t look angry, just unimpressed. “The only reason that Mitsuru allowed us to keep a former meta-space assassin here, with minimal supervision and backup, is because _she knew we could handle you_ ,” he said, short and to the point. “You are not getting your phone back right now. Nor your laptop. The rules were clear.”

Goro nodded, eyes still wide and expression wary. “W-What are you? You can’t be a Velvet resident; you’re another...Wild Card. Like me. Right?”

“I am.” Minato waved him back away from the door, and Goro obeyed, clearly nervous. But the blue-haired man still didn’t scold him or raise a hand against him, just explained calmly, “The circumstances of my journey left me as the wielder of the most powerful arcana, the Universe. I am the strongest persona-user currently alive.”

Goro swallowed hard. “Forgive me, but… Things weren’t explained to me very well. Is that the same as how my arcana is Justice? ...that’s what Akira said, anyway.”

Minato nodded. “That’s right. It’s exactly like that. And the strength of my arcana gives me the ability to use spells and summon personas in reality. It’s something unique to me.”

“I…” Goro began anxiously, already backing towards the stairs, “I… I apologize for my outburst.” This changed everything, if his warden was that powerful. And there was no guarantee that Ryoji wasn’t equally as strong. He was utterly outmatched.

Ryoji shrugged. “Look, you’ve been thrown into an unfamiliar situation, you’re frustrated, you’re scared. We can’t get mad at you for that.”

“I’m _not_ scared--!” Goro objected. “And you have every right to be mad! I just yelled at you, made demands… Just tell me what my punishment is.”

They exchanged a glance. “There isn’t one,” Ryoji said. “It’s okay, seriously. It’s a good sign that you’re not bottling stuff up. And we didn’t mean to scare you with the spell, either, so just...try to relax. All right?”

Goro nodded hesitantly. “All right…” He retreated up the stairs, and Ryoji flopped back on the couch with a concerned frown.

“He really thinks we’re going to punish him for being frustrated?” he asked. “He looked like he thought you were going to hurt him.”

Minato sat back down, expression distant. “Lady Belladonna said he grew up in foster care...and I think it’s much worse than we were imagining. I don’t think we know the half of what was done to Akechi-kun.” They had expected that things would be difficult, but if he was that expectant of punishment for something as simple as losing his temper, they were going to have an interesting time of this.

* * *

* * *

The Phantom Thieves were approaching a critical mass of worry. It had been easy to decide that they were going to find a way to save both Akira and Goro, once they’d recovered from the spiral of despair that learning their fates had put them in. Actually doing it, however, was another problem entirely. Akira’s freedom mostly hinged on clearing his assault charge and proving his good name, but Goro… They had no idea what the Shadow Operatives would want for him, or if he was even safe at all.

And so, since Sojiro didn’t want them in his cafe, and neutral ground seemed like the best strategy, the Thieves forced them to agree to meet at the church in Kanda, on advice from one of Akira’s friends. Hifumi advised them when it would be empty, so Sojiro and Sae accompanied the Thieves to wait in the empty sanctuary, on the first day of a brand-new year.

Mitsuru showed up in the lead, which didn’t surprise Sojiro one bit, but there was also the silver-haired kid from the battle in Shibuya, that Hamuko girl, and a man old enough to be their father. They walked up to where the Thieves were sitting in the pews, but didn’t take seats themselves, and Mitsuru inclined her head.

“My name is Kirijo Mitsuru, the head of the Shadow Operatives,” she said. “My associates are Narukami Yu, Aragaki Hamuko, and Dojima Ryotaro. You all must be the rest of the Phantom Thieves.”

“Where the hell did you take Goro?” Ryuji blurted. “You can’t just snatch him away and lock him up like that!”

“We know he did bad things, but it’s not fair! We changed his heart, and he helped us save everyone!” Ann cried.

All of them tried to talk at once, and Mitsuru looked completely overwhelmed for a moment before holding up a hand. “Be quiet, all of you!” It worked, and they all fell silent with surprise. She looked them all over with a frown. “I’m not sure that all of you understand the implications of what exactly you were doing in meta-space. Altering people’s mental states carries a grave responsibility. You could have easily destroyed someone’s psyche without even realizing it.”

“Mona taught us to do things so that we wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Futaba complained. It was easy to overlook that they hadn’t been positive in the beginning that a change of heart would work as intended, but proof was stronger than hypotheticals. Nothing bad had happened to any of their targets because of their actions. Not even Shido.

“Still, it was dangerous to draw so much attention to your actions,” Yu said. “The more people that know about the collective unconscious, the more chance there is that people like Shido try to use it for their own gain.”

“What were we supposed to do, then?” Makoto snapped. “We helped an incredible number of people. Not just our high-profile targets, but tons of smaller requests as well. Were we supposed to just let those people suffer? The God of Control would have taken over if we did nothing.”

“The Phantom Thieves are the reason I am here now,” Yusuke said. “That applies to several more of our number as well.”

“The police weren’t doing anything to help,” Haru said coldly. She’d been glaring at Mitsuru quietly since she’d walked in. “And all of you certainly weren’t. You weren’t actually concerned about my father when you asked me to dinner that time, were you? It was just for information about the Thieves. You were more concerned with finding us than helping people that needed it, just like the police!”

Hamuko stepped between the two groups, waving her arms. “We didn’t come to talk about whether anything was moral or not or whose fault it is,” she said placatingly. “Kurusu-kun’s in jail, and we wanna get him out as soon as possible.”

“Why, so you can snatch him up too?” Ryuji muttered, and Sae squeezed his shoulder warningly.

Dojima sighed heavily. “Look. Kurusu-kun’s gonna be stuck in juvie for a while. They’ve scheduled his probation hearing for February, after Shido’s trial. His testimony will look good in favor of them letting him off the hook for the probation violation, but if we can figure out how to prove his innocence in the original assault, it’ll be even better. We could clear his record completely.”

Futaba scowled. “We knew that, and we’re trying. But there’s not a lot of leads. Half the info for that case was never recorded because Shido’s goons were in charge.”

“Shouldn’t Shido confess that the assault was a false charge anyway?” Ann asked. “He’s confessing to everything else.”

“It’s a small thing, compared to everything else he’s done,” Yu said regretfully. “The prosecutors may not even bother in the face of murder and blackmail and conspiracy. That’s if Shido even remembers to mention it.” He looked from one Thief to the next, seemingly imploring them to believe what he was saying. “But we can help you. We’ve got friends in all sorts of places; if we find a lead, we can tip you off on things to look into. If you would let us.”

Makoto glanced up at Sae, who nodded. She frowned, but looked Yu straight in the eyes as she replied firmly, “We would appreciate any information that you are willing to share, but I think I speak for all of us when I say that we would prefer that you remain uninvolved otherwise. Akira-kun will have little reason to trust you, and frankly, I don’t either.”

“I find myself suspicious that none of you were involved until the end,” Yusuke said. “Surely such an organization would have had the means to track us down sooner.”

Yu and Hamuko exchanged despairing looks. “We tried!” Hamuko groaned. “We’ve been trying all along, but it’s kind of hard when you’ve been cut off at the knees. The demiurge taking over the Velvet Room cut off all of our access to meta-space. All we could do was look for you guys in the real world, and by the time we had any leads, things were spiraling out of control.”

“Akira-kun mentioned that you approached him just before we went into Mementos. It was a strange coincidence,” Haru said.

“Not really.” Yu shrugged. “We'd been watching the door to the Velvet Room for a long time. I’m just surprised it took that long for him to use it. Did he really need that little help with his personas?”

Ann snorted, covering her mouth. “Oh, he did. He just always went to the Velvet Room while we were on Mementos trips or something. It was a better use of time that way, since we were already there, instead of having to make a special trip to Shibuya on a day off. And...I don’t think he liked the Velvet Room much, so he wouldn’t have gone just to visit.”

Mitsuru closed her eyes and sighed. Thwarted by a boy actually making good use of his time. “We did pinpoint Kurusu-kun during November, based on several glimpses of him from different sources, but then we believed he had been killed before we could get to him. We learned he was still alive the same way that the rest of Tokyo did.” 

“Especially since Sakura-san wouldn’t talk to us,” Hamuko huffed.

Sojiro frowned at her. “None of you had given me any reason to trust you. And really, swooping in and taking Akechi hasn’t exactly helped your case.”

“The point is,” Mitsuru said firmly, “we tried to locate you, but were unable to before Shido’s change of heart.” A hint of a smile crossed her lips. “I must admit, though, that particular calling card was quite impressive.”

“Thanks!” Futaba chirped, and Mitsuru’s gaze turned fond.

“I met your mother just once, Sakura-chan, but I can say without hesitation that she would be proud of all that you accomplished.”

Futaba looked away. “I… Thank you.”

“Oi,” Ryuji said loudly. “You still haven’t answered our other question. That’s great you’re gonna help us with Akira or whatever, but what’d you do with Goro? Where is he?”

The brash question redirected the rest of the Thieves’ attention, and the Shadow Operatives found themselves staring down a crowd that wasn’t budging until they got a satisfactory answer. Hamuko finally took initiative, not even waiting for permission from Mitsuru before blurting, “We’re taking care of him. He’s safe, I promise.”

None of them said anything in response, clearly unsatisfied, and Mitsuru reached into her bag for a tablet. “Two of our members are looking after him. He needs space and time to recover, according to them, and he isn’t being allowed to contact any of you. Reformed or not, he did use meta-space for terrible things, and needs to be punished for that.” She held up a hand to silence their protests, then pulled something up on the tablet and passed it to them. “He’s recorded a message for all of you. Please listen.”

Makoto took the tablet and hit play, looking puzzled.

> _“--that button there. Oops. I think I started the recording by accident.” The dark-haired man grinned sheepishly. “Want me to start it over?”_
> 
> _“It’s fine, Mochizuki-san. Don’t worry about it.” Goro had his TV smile firmly in place, and Mochizuki shrugged._
> 
> _“Okay. Just let me know when you’re done. Mitsuru’s gonna watch the video before she shows it to any of them, but Minato and I won’t, so don’t worry about what you’re saying. Just, anything you want them to know.” He waved, and was visible leaving through the door in the background, shutting it behind him._
> 
> _As soon as he was gone, Goro’s smile slipped, and he waved tiredly at the camera. “...well, hello.” He paused to think of what to say, looking a little lost, which was strange to see on the boy that had once commanded interviews with ease. But then he sighed. “I’m...safe, I suppose. Taken care of. I’m being fed, and they’ve given me a room.”_
> 
> _He reached forward then, picking up the camera and panning around what looked like a dorm room before setting it back in its original place. “They’ve been...kind to me, which wasn’t what I was expecting. I’m not sure I quite believe it. They’ll be nice as long as I behave, at least, and they’ve promised to teach me more about my abilities.” He chewed his lip, a habit seemingly picked up from Akira, and said softly, “I miss all of you, though. We didn’t get the opportunity for much of a reunion because of everything that was happening. When I am finally allowed to speak with you in person again, it will make me very happy._
> 
> _“Sae-san, I hope we can go out for sushi. There’s...a lot that I’d like to talk to you about. And Boss, I miss your coffee already. These heathens only have a normal coffeemaker and the supermarket brand of coffee grounds.”_

They all watched in silence as Goro laughed weakly, but he was clearly starting to tear up, and when he choked out, _“And, Akira, I know you’re probably not watching, but I--”_ , Makoto stopped the recording decisively and turned to their tech expert.

“Futaba?”

“Well, there’s no obvious editing,” Futaba said quietly. “No weird stutters or lighting changes. And I don’t think he’s faking anything. We all know what he looks like when he’s putting on an act.”

“So he’s okay, but he’s sad,” Ann said softly.

“We can’t even talk on the phone with him?” Haru asked.

Mitsuru shook her head. “His punishment is already more comfortable than what he would have been given if he had turned himself in to the police. I simply wanted you to know that he is being treated well in our custody.” She was definitely not going to mention that Ryoji was already happily referring to him as ‘our kid’ in outside conversations. “We will also make sure that Kurusu-kun is able to view the video as well.”

Makoto gave the tablet back. “So there’s nothing that we can do to get Goro released sooner?”

“Unfortunately not. But this won’t be forever. He’ll be returned safe and sound once he’s served his punishment.”

It was obvious that the Thieves still weren’t happy with that answer, but short of getting into a brawl with the Shadow Operatives in the middle of a church, there wasn’t really anything they could do. They bid farewell to all of them without incident, though Dojima and Sojiro traded phone numbers with a promise of talking later, and then the Thieves were left alone in the church.

“All right,” Ryuji said after a moment. “Priorities?”

Yusuke made a thoughtful noise. “Our leader first. We have the cooperation of the Shadow Operatives on that front, and I can only assume that he is being kept in harsher conditions.”

“Once we get Akira-kun back, we can work on how to get Goro-kun back from the Shadow Operatives together,” Haru said, clapping her hands.

Sojiro, while proud that none of the kids had lost their tempers and outright attacked Mitsuru or her coworkers, folded his arms. “Normally I’d question what you kids were thinking, going up against people like the Shadow Operatives, but considering you brought down Shido’s conspiracy, I’m gonna keep quiet and let you do your thing. Just tell me if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Boss,” Ryuji said, giving him a thumbs-up,and the Thieves started gathering their things to leave the church. It wasn’t a perfect situation, but it never had been. At least now they had a goal. That would carry them through, all the way to the end.

* * *

* * *

Akira, too, wasn’t coping well with his situation.

Solitary confinement didn’t suit him. He was too used to having free reign of Tokyo, of flying through the metaverse, and now he was trapped in a small cell for most of the day. He was allowed out for half an hour at a time for meals, and that was all.

Everyone knew why he was there, of course. Rumors spread as quickly through juvenile detention as they did through a high school, and everyone wanted to see the great Phantom Thief that had been brought to his knees and locked away. But on his second day there, a kid a year or two older than him had sought him out specifically. He had a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist, and he’d identified Akira as “Iwai’s kid” and promised that he’d keep the others from harassing him.

It was small things like that, that allowed his time to be at least bearable, but Akira knew it would only continue to get worse the longer he was there. He was trying to keep up with his exercising in the limited space he had, but he was barely sleeping, so he was tired all the time. Protection from the other inmates was all well and good, but it couldn’t protect him from the monsters inside his own head.

Sleep just led to nightmares, and even Arsène couldn’t chase them away.

_Igor, at a judge’s bench, slamming the gavel down. “The jury’s decision stands. I sentence the defendants to be executed, immediately.”_

_The jury’s box was filled with Shido’s faceless goons, cackling at the punishment that had been meted out. Faceless shadows grabbed his arms, dragging him towards the guillotines that dominated the center of the courtroom. From the corner of his eye he saw Goro being dragged along too, struggling but unable to get away, and Akira screamed as they were forced beneath the blades--_

When he opened his eyes this time, though, he wasn’t back in his cell, but instead in what seemed to be some sort of living room, all in a familiar blue. Lavenza was clutching her compendium, looking at him with wide eyes, and beside her was…

Akira stumbled back a few steps instinctively, the fear from his nightmare still holding fast, and Igor nodded to him before glancing at Lavenza.

“If you would, dear, I believe it would be best if you handled this.”

Lavenza nodded, and Igor vanished through a door on the far side of the room. Only when he was gone did Akira relax, and he asked quietly, “Is this… Is this the Velvet Room?”

“Yes,” Lavenza replied. “This is what it is meant to look like, without being warped. You technically shouldn’t be allowed here until your journey has completely ended, but Master Igor destroyed every trace of the prison. You’ve been through so much; we can easily make an exception.” Her golden eyes were soft, concerned. “But you’re imprisoned in reality now. Are… Are you okay?”

Akira opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words were forthcoming. His hands were shaking, and to Lavenza’s great surprise, he dropped to his knees on the blue carpet, his bangs shadowing his eyes. “I can’t…”

“Trickster…?” Lavenza asked worriedly, setting her book down on a nearby table and stepping closer.

“I can’t do this. I can’t.” Tears ran down his cheeks from beneath the veil of his hair, and he wrapped his arms around himself. “I… I know I had to, to keep them safe, but… It’s too much, I can’t, I’m going to go crazy in there…!”

Lavenza’s eyes widened, and she hurried forward to throw her arms around him. With him on his knees, it was easy to cradle his head against her shoulder as he just sat there limply. “Akira-kun…”

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I? I shot a god, and I can’t handle solitary confinement in prison.”

“No,” Lavenza said, not letting go of him even as his tears began to leave a damp spot on her dress. “You have been so strong, and so brave. We could not ask any more of you.” She squeezed him gently. “We tried to bring you here sooner, but your sleep has been so fitful that the connection wouldn’t reach. I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t sleep,” Akira mumbled. “I’m so scared. I’m so scared someone’s going to drag me back to that interrogation room, or try to put me to death… It’s stupid; they can’t do anything to me because I have to testify, but I can’t get away from seeing needles and guillotines and nooses.” It was hard to admit, but Lavenza, at least, was safe.

She clutched him tighter, and weakly he reached up to return the hug. They stayed there until his breathing steadied, and then Lavenza grabbed one of his hands, tugging him gently towards the couch. “Come here. I have something to show you.”

He went without complaint, sitting down beside her as she pulled out a tablet and started trying to navigate the screen. As she worked, she said earnestly, “There may be a way to avoid your nightmares, Akira-kun. I...am not an expert in how it works, exactly, but...if you are here, and were to sleep here, I would imagine that your sleep would be dreamless because your subconscious is already in this place.”

Akira hummed, trying to think through how exhausted he was. “So even though I’m sleeping in the real world, I could still...?” It was a really bizarre concept, but not any more so than anything else he’d seen this year.

“Yes,” Lavenza confirmed. “Because despite being asleep in Reality, so long as you are here in the Room, you are not truly resting.” She poked at the tablet, a pout crossing her face. “I...don’t know how this works. Theo would, but I’m not sure where he is right now…”

“Let me see.” Akira took it and looked it over. “What are you trying to do?”

“There’s a video…”

He poked through the apps until he located the gallery app in a sub-menu. There was only one file in it, a video file, and his eyes widened at the preview thumbnail. “Goro?!”

Lavenza nodded, pleased to see him perking up even a little through his tiredness. “It’s a message, for the Thieves and for you. This is part of why we wished to bring you here.”

Akira eagerly cut the volume up and hit play. By the time the video was over, he was crying again, and Lavenza eventually found herself with her guest asleep, his head resting in her lap. She couldn’t bear to move and risk disturbing him as he curled around the tablet, so she just stroked his hair softly. Hopefully sleeping here would ward off his nightmares, and hopefully being able to visit the Velvet Room would ease his sense of confinement. That was all she could hope for.

* * *

* * *

_“And, Akira, I know you’re probably not watching, but I… I miss you so much. M-More than all the others. I wish you were here. Or at least, I wish we could switch places, because at least then I would know that you were being treated well. T-The worst part is not knowing. Not knowing if you’re safe, not knowing what they want from me… I’ll probably go mad again before they manage to rehabilitate me. Hah… I’m joking, of course. P-Please do not worry about me; focus on getting out as soon as you can so that I can see you. I… I love you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!
> 
> Me, casually yoinking concepts that I messed with ahead of time in kink meme fills: ^_^ Also, the distant sound of me having no idea what juvie is like. But this is about having fun (and tormenting the kids), not accuracy. XD
> 
> The next couple chapters are going to be done in a similar format to this, covering multiple days, because I’ve got a lot of small things in mind that I don’t think could fill whole chapters on their own. So a bit of this and that up until Akira gets out of prison, and then we’ll probably jump to March like the game does and wrap this monstrosity up. So maybe...five more chapters? Roughly. We’ll see how it lays out once I start getting more scenes written. It might be less.
> 
> Next chapter: Goro’s still in fight-or-flight mode around his new guardians, and Sojiro learns to cope with being one of the few normal adults that know the truth.


	57. January 4th-16th, 2017

Minato and Ryoji had noticed almost right away that Goro wasn’t eating lunch. Neither of them asked, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, and they figured it was just a habit he’d gotten into while he lived alone. It wasn’t a problem; he ate other meals with the rest of the household with no issue, so they weren’t exactly worried.

Until he gave them a reason to worry.

Goro padded down the stairs quietly, looking around when he reached the ground floor. He’d had his first session with a therapist, someone called Sonomura Maki that Minato knew. It hadn’t been much of a session; she’d mostly asked him basic questions about himself and his habits, and Goro had begrudgingly answered. No, he didn’t drink, no, he didn’t do drugs, no, he wasn’t suicidal. Yes, there was childhood trauma, no, he didn’t like this, yes, he probably needed help.

Yes, having to talk even that little bit was dredging up memories he’d rather not, especially not in this place.

It had been exhausting regardless of Maki’s friendliness, and now he was hungrier than usual after skipping breakfast. Ryoji was in the game room playing some video game, Ken was out somewhere, and Minato was walking Maki home, presumably talking about him. The important part was that there was no one around to stop him as he made his way into the kitchen. There was an open bag of chips in the cabinet, and Goro started filling a small bowl. He didn’t need a lot. Just a few, to quiet his stomach down until dinner. No one would even notice, and he could worry about getting the bowl back downstairs and washed later. It was a shame they didn’t have any apples, because that would be easier, but he couldn’t be picky.

And then all of his plans were derailed as Ryoji walked into the kitchen. The dark haired man went in the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and then looked over. “Oh. Hey, Goro-kun.”

He was smiling, but Goro put the clip back on the bag of chips as quickly as he could and stuffed it back in the cabinet. “I’m sorry.” The words jumped to his lips instinctively, forced out by the sudden feeling of doing something wrong, and he fled the kitchen without another word.

Ryoji, left behind, stared in confusion between the spot that Goro had once occupied and the abandoned bowl of chips on the counter. Something was definitely up, and he took the bowl and headed upstairs to Goro’s room. The door didn’t have a lock, but none of them ever went in without knocking, so Ryoji tapped on the door and waited. For a long moment, there was silence, and then Goro’s voice said tentatively, resignedly, “Come in.”

When Ryoji opened the door, he took in the sight of Goro sitting on his bed, not missing the way the boy’s eyes flicked from his face, to the bowl, and then back to the floor, all in quick succession. He walked over and set the bowl on the nightstand, then looked down at Goro curiously, noting how he had flinched back as Ryoji got closer. “You left these.”

Goro visibly swallowed hard, and said, a bit defensively, “I apologize. I should have put them back.”

“What? No.” Ryoji was confused all over again. “You wanted some, right? I just brought them up because you ran off without them.” He smiled, trying to ease whatever was causing all of the nervous tension winding inside Goro. “Don’t look so scared. You’re acting like I’m going to hurt you over a bowl of chips.”

“You’re not?” Goro gritted out, but he almost immediately snapped his mouth shut and looked away.

Ryoji felt something cold settle inside him. “No, of course not. Why would I?”

“I took food without permission.”

The muttered admission was like a shot of ice in his veins, and Ryoji dropped to his knees so he could see Goro’s face better. “Goro-kun, you live here. You don’t need permission to grab a snack. No one’s going to get mad at you for being hungry.” He watched Goro eye him suspiciously, and asked, almost afraid of the answer, “Did… Did someone really punish you for that?”

The way that Goro’s expression twisted was all the answer that Ryoji needed, and he bounced back to his feet to sit beside the teenager on the bed, concerned and sad that he felt like he needed to apologize for something as simple as being _hungry_. “That’s not going to happen here,” he said, his usual playfulness replaced with a calm seriousness. “I know you probably don’t believe us yet, but we meant it when we said we were going to take care of you. Is this why you haven’t been eating lunch?”

Goro didn’t look at him, fidgeting anxiously with the cuffs of his shirt instead. But he finally said quietly, “It became a habit, to only take what I was explicitly given. Taking more food than we were allowed in the orphanages was punishable by being starved to make up for it. And my foster placements...they didn’t want to feed me any more than the bare minimum, in most cases.” He shook his head. “Even when Boss gave me curry and coffee for free… It...took a while for me to be comfortable with the idea that he didn’t expect anything in return, especially because of...what I had done to him.” When he finally met Ryoji’s gaze, he just looked unhappy. “I would like to believe you, but… I can’t, yet. And I’m sorry for my overreaction; speaking with Sonomura-san meant that I was already thinking of those memories, and then…”

Very carefully, Ryoji laid a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize for that,” he said. When Goro didn’t shove him off or flinch, he wrapped the arm around his shoulders completely. “You lived by yourself before, right? You had all that space, and you didn’t have to worry about anyone else. I’d imagine coming here has taken a lot of getting used to, having to navigate living with other people again.”

“That’s...yeah,” Goro said softly. He leaned into Ryoji, just a little. He wanted to trust them. He wanted to believe that he could be safe here. It was just going to take time. More time than he’d realized. But at least they were willing to be patient with him. Maybe...it would be okay to let his guard down.

Just a little.

* * *

* * *

Time continued to pass, the kids continued to work, and Sojiro continued to be increasingly annoyed with their justice system.

The police had been calling in people that knew Akira for over a week now, asking questions about his activities during the year and trying to ‘build a picture’ of what his life had been like. They’d talked to his teacher, his schoolmates, his friends… Eventually they reached Sojiro himself, who knew for a fact that no one else had anything bad to say about Akira. And if they thought they were going to get something from him, they were sadly mistaken. There were three things Sojiro really cared about: quality coffee, well-prepared food, and his kids. Which by now included all of the Phantom Thieves, since there was a distinct lack of parental influence among most of them.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to say. I never had any problems with his behavior. If you’re looking for something you can pin on him, you’re not getting it from me.”

The detectives had been less than thrilled, but were forced to accept his answer. He was finally allowed to leave after an unreasonably long time, and made his way back to Yongen-Jaya. Being stuck at the station for so long meant he’d missed the window for most of his regular customers, but there was still a chance someone would wander in, so he opened the cafe up regardless. He did eventually get a customer, but it wasn’t quite who he was expecting.

“Dojima-san, right?” he said as the man took a seat at the counter.

Dojima offered up a smile. “Hamuko-chan said you make the best coffee she’s ever tasted,” he said. “Thought I’d try it out for myself. She’s really disappointed about being banned, you know.”

“She shouldn’t have been sticking her nose in other people’s business,” Sojiro said, but he couldn’t hide a touch of a pleased expression at the praise. “I’d recommend the Blue Mountain, with one cream if you don’t take it black.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dojima agreed, and as Sojiro got started on the coffee, he said, “Don’t be too hard on them. They were trying their best. Still are.”

Tipping the beans into the grinder and cutting it on, Sojiro sighed. “Look. I met Kirijo-san and Nanjo-san a couple of years ago when Wakaba badgered them into a meeting. It was obvious pretty much as soon as they realized what she was working on that they didn’t approve. So how was I supposed to trust that they wouldn’t have done something to those kids, if they’d caught them? Plus, you all are the government. There was no way of knowing that Shido hadn’t gotten to you, too, since he had his claws in all sorts of cognition-related things.”

“That’s fair,” Dojima acknowledged. “Personally I don’t think Kirijo-san handled this in the greatest way, but it’s the first time they haven’t had direct involvement from the beginning, I think. Hopefully she learns from this. Hopefully they all do. I love my nephew, but announcing he’s a Shadow Operative and expecting Kurusu-kun not to bolt was kinda stupid.”

Now that was interesting. “Your nephew?” Sojiro asked. “Is that how you’re tied to all of this?”

“Yep. Narukami’s my nephew. Do you know anything about the weird murders in Inaba a few years back?”

Understanding dawned as he thought back to that meeting all those years ago. Wakaba had wanted to talk to the people involved in the Inaba case, but had only been able to speak to the culprit, Adachi Tohru, because the rest of them were _minors_. “Oh, jeeze. Your nephew was the one involved in that mess, then?”

Dojima laughed. “Yeah, he was. Took me long enough to notice, and even then it was hard to believe. Who’s gonna take the idea of a world inside of a television or kids with magic powers seriously? But eventually there was just too much to ignore, not the least of which that one of them set a magazine on fire with his mind right in front of me. And later I got to watch the whole group of them just...climb into a TV, like it was nothing.” He accepted the mug of coffee Sojiro slid across the counter, taking a sip and humming approvingly. “Damn, that’s good. Anyway, it’s a little tricky to go back to normal when you know all that stuff exists, so I help out the group from time to time. Yu’s in college now, but I still gotta keep an eye on him, you know?”

Sojiro looked around the empty cafe, quietly conceded that there probably weren’t going to be any more customers, and then poured himself a cup and walked around to sit by Dojima at the counter. “You would think that since they know about this sort of thing, they’d be more understanding. The Thieves certainly weren’t trying to hurt anyone. It got to the point where they were just trying not to die, honestly. Stressing me out all the time…”

“It’s the scale, I think,” Dojima said thoughtfully. “Small-town murder case, with most of the weird shit happening outside of the public eye? Easy to smooth over. But having the whole country with its eyes on kids that can steal hearts… If the method ever got out, we’d end up with more people like Shido, trying to exploit it. And Mitsuru-san’s always been stricter about that sort of thing because of how she grew up, and the image she feels like she has to project. She’s trying to make up for all the shady stuff her family’s company did, and she goes a little overboard sometimes.”

“Taking Akechi-kun was a bit more than ‘a little overboard’,” Sojiro commented. “I know what the kid did, but there wasn’t a way he could have stayed in Tokyo? Ripping him away from everything when he’s already had his heart changed doesn’t seem like it’d be good for his mental state.”

“Apparently Minato asked specifically to look after him, and Mitsuru-san agreed,” Dojima said. “But really, he’s in good hands. Minato and Ryoji are the best choice for looking after him, because they know all about what it’s like to be trapped in a terrible situation.”

Sojiro stared down into his coffee for a long moment. “...they are going to let him go eventually, right?” he asked. “Otherwise, I don’t know what I’m going to tell Akira, and you’ll have some pissed-off Thieves on your hands.”

Dojima nodded. “As far as I know, that’s the plan. They just want to make sure he’s had a chance to work through everything, first. Maybe try to rein the Thieves in a little, so they can make sure it’s working?”

“Pft, yeah right. Have you _met_ those kids? They have no concept of toning it down at all. They’re probably planning a heist to steal Akechi-kun as we speak.”

“...well, that can be Mitsuru-san and Minato’s problem.”

“Here’s to that.”

* * *

* * *

Evenings in the dorm were quiet. On Saturdays, everyone sat down together to watch the new Featherman episode, and Goro was slowly realizing that he wasn’t going to be ridiculed for his more childish moments. Mostly because Ryoji and Ken were just as enthusiastic, if not more, and while Minato was more subdued, it was always obvious that he was having a good time too.

It was the only time he really saw Ken; their fourth resident was busy preparing for entrance exams, which gave Goro a pang when he thought about it. That could have been him, scholarship child at seventeen, darling of Todai or any number of other colleges if he hadn’t missed half of December and now everything else. He had no idea what he was going to do about redoing his last year of high school now. But either way, he hadn’t gotten much of an opportunity to get to know Ken. Ryoji was always willing to discuss characters with him, though, and Minato was just as curious as he was about when Feather Cockatoo was going to be introduced, and Feather Osprey beyond that.

Other nights were pretty quiet, and Goro caught up on reading and video games he was behind on, or watched TV with his guardians. But one night, he crept downstairs. Everyone else was in their rooms, and he was curious. He hadn’t been into the Velvet Room since Christmas, and while it wasn’t somewhere he thought of fondly, he just wanted to see the attendants again. He just wanted… something more to bring that day into perspective, when everything else was out of reach. And he had been forbidden from leaving the dorm, but technically the Room was connected to the dorm, still.

The door opened on silent hinges, and Goro stepped gently onto plush blue carpet. It was a hallway, which wasn’t what he was expecting, and as he ventured further down, the door closed behind him. There were connecting hallways, perpendicular angles with other doors, and through an open one Goro glimpsed a small library. As he walked farther, though, he eventually found a large lounge-style living room, all in the same shade of blue. And on one of the plush blue sofas, covered gently in a blanket, Akira was sleeping.

Goro’s eyes went wide. Akira’s expression was relaxed, peaceful, his hair messy and spread across the pillow, and Goro took a step forward without thinking, compelled to touch, to wake him, to drag him up and hug him and never let him go again. But he met resistance, and he looked down to see the little attendant, Lavenza, with her hand curled gently around his wrist.

“Please,” she said softly, “don’t wake him. He only sleeps well here.”

“But…” Goro’s voice cracked, and he stopped talking immediately, unsure about showing weakness in front of the Velvet residents. He wasn’t even sure where she had come from.

Lavenza shook her head. “So long as he remains asleep, you are technically not breaking any of Minato-san’s rules. Sit with me for a little while.” She guided him gently across the room, onto a sofa far enough away that they wouldn’t wake Akira, but close enough that Goro still could see his face. She folded her hands in her lap and said softly, “He is in prison in Reality. His only solace from nightmares is to sleep here.”

Goro dragged his eyes away from Akira’s sleeping face to really look at Lavenza for the first time. She looked as sad as he felt about Akira’s predicament. “He has to be frightened…” he whispered. “Can he at least have a little bit of freedom in this place?”

“We try to give him space and interaction,” Lavenza explained, “but mostly he sleeps, because it wards off the dreams he would have otherwise.”

That was as much as she would tell him. They chatted a little longer, but he got nothing else specific about Akira, and after a while it was easiest to just lie back and tiredly and longingly watch his boyfriend sleep. He was half-asleep himself when Minato appeared at last, clearly fetched by an attendant, but he was too drowsy to argue when his guardian led him back out to the dorm and up to his own room.

“Arisato-san…?” he mumbled sleepily, and Minato hesitated in the doorway.

“Yes, Akechi-kun?”

“Are you mad? I saw Akira.”

Minato smiled fondly. “No, I’m not mad. Get some sleep. You’ve got another session with Sonomura-san tomorrow.”

Goro hummed, fumbling for his pajamas. “Okay. Goodnight…”

“Goodnight,” Minato said quietly, and left him to change and crawl into bed. Goro curled up once he’d settled into bed, but he was a little more relaxed than before. Even if Akira was in prison, at least Goro had seen him. He knew that he was safe. That was good enough for now.

* * *

* * *

_He clawed at the wall desperately, watching through the slimmest crack as Yaldabaoth offered Akira everything that he ever wanted. Power, recognition, his friends back from the dead…_

_“We’re not dead! We’re here, Akira, no!”_

_But Akira couldn’t hear, and the wall wouldn’t give, and he could only listen helplessly as Akira agreed to the wicked god’s terms. Only then did the concrete crumble away, and he stumbled free of his prison, his heart seizing at the relieved smile on Akira’s face. He should be happy that Akira was safe, that Akira was alive, but…_

_“Idiot! Idiot! You weren’t supposed to give him the world for me!”_

Goro woke to a cold feeling against his jaw, flailing in confusion for a moment before he realized that it was Koromaru’s cold nose nudging him awake. He blinked blearily at his door, which was still shut, then at the dog that had scrambled up onto his bed, and decided that he wasn’t going to ask questions. Koromaru snuggled up beside him, and Goro rolled over to put an arm over him, needing some kind of comfort.

“He would have done it,” he said into Koromaru’s fur. “If he hadn’t heard me. I know he’s the sort of stupid trash that would have given up the world for me. Even though I’m not worth it.”

Koromaru whined and licked Goro’s cheek, and the boy felt some of his anxiety unwind and slip away. He’d never had a pet, unless one counted Morgana, which would be rude. But Koromaru’s fur was soft and his presence beside Goro was warm, and it was easy to fall back asleep afterwards with the vague feeling that he was protected. That Koromaru would wake him up again if his dreams returned to torment him.

***

When he went downstairs for breakfast, Koromaru at his heels, the only other person at the table was Ken, who waved from behind a very large bowl of sugary cereal.

“Minato-senpai and Ryoji-senpai went to give Mitsuru-senpai a report on how you’re doing,” he explained, and Goro ducked into the kitchen to pour himself some cereal as well and to make up a plate of Koromaru’s food.

When he came back, he glanced around the quiet dorm nervously. “They’re both gone?” he asked. “I would have thought one of them would stay to make sure I didn’t try anything.”

“They trust you,” Ken said casually. “And I’m taking a day off from school, so I’m here. It’s fine.” His voice lowered, like he was revealing some kind of secret, and he added, “I wanted to talk to you, anyway. Minato-senpai told me about… well, he sort of implied what happened to your mom. How you lost her when you were little. I lost mine, too.”

Goro just stared at him, looking confused with a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth, and he lowered it back to the bowl and said flatly, “If I believed someone was that clever, I would almost say that someone specifically populated this dorm with people that they thought could relate to me.”

Ken laughed and reached over to rub Koromaru’s ears. “I think that’s part of why Minato-senpai wanted you to stay with us. But no, everyone from my original team had lost someone. Even Koromaru here, after his original owner died. We were a pretty broken group, and I didn’t help things with my obsession for revenge.”

“...revenge?” Goro asked quietly, and Ken nodded.

“I found out that one of my teammates, Shinjiro-senpai, his persona had gone out of control and my mom died because of it. And I wanted to kill him. I spent all this time planning it, and then when I finally was going to do it, he ended up taking a bullet to save me instead. He’d spent every day since my mom died regretting what happened, and I never knew.”

Koromaru put his head down, whining, and Goro frowned. “It sounds like we’re the same, then. Wasting our lives on revenge when we should have just left well enough alone.” Things balanced out, though, he supposed. He’d done terrible things and was now paying for them, but if he hadn’t been involved with Shido, he wouldn’t have met the Thieves, or the people that were now taking care of him. He wanted to believe that this was going to end up being a net positive in the end.

“Ryoji-senpai probably got it the worst of us, though. I mean, his ‘mom’ technically used him to almost destroy the world,” Ken said casually, and Goro blinked.

“Er… Mochizuki-san’s mother did what, now?”

Ken suddenly looked embarrassed. “Oh. If they haven’t told you about that, I probably shouldn’t. I won’t explain it right.”

This conversation had taken a weird turn, and Goro wasn’t sure how he felt about it. “So… Mochizuki-san’s mother was like Shido?” That would fit with the running theme of everyone else in the dorm relating to Goro. An orphan, someone who had specifically lost their mother young, and someone with a power-crazed parent…

“More like the demiurge,” Ken muttered, and Goro smiled awkwardly, unwilling to even entertain the implications of that comment when he wasn’t even finished with breakfast.

“I will...ask Arisato-san,” he said, stuffing a bite of cereal into his mouth.

Ken looked relieved that Goro wasn’t going to demand answers for his little slip, and instead asked cheerfully, “Have you tried Luigi Kart, yet? I know you’ve been in the game room, but I don’t know how much you’ve actually played.”

“I haven’t,” Goro said, once he’d swallowed. “I didn’t wish to play it alone.” It was an awkward admission, but it was the truth. He was trying to be more honest, after all. Sonomura-san had said that a good first step was to start airing his true feelings in small, safe situations. Video games were safe.

“We should play after breakfast,” Ken said. “I’m taking a day off from exam prep, too, and Elizabeth-san wants to have another tournament soon. She’s the best of us, except on Spectrum Highway.”

Goro nodded. “That sounds...fun.” A tiny corner of his mind was still convinced that all of this goodwill was some sort of trap, but he was learning day by day to just accept the kindness that they offered.

“Awesome. I’ll get the dishes when we’re done, and then we can play.” Ken took another giant bite of cereal, and added with his mouth full, “By the way, I let Koromaru into your room this morning. He was pawing at your door and he seemed worried, so...was that okay?”

Goro glanced at Koromaru, who gave a short, ‘boof’-sounding bark, and smiled. “Yes… It helped. Thank you both.”

***

Spending the morning (and most of the afternoon) playing video games with Ken was the first time since Goro had arrived at the dorm that he truly felt normal. Learning the tricks of each course, Koromaru’s head resting on his thigh as the dog watched the screen attentively, laughing at the sheer absurdity when Goro somehow managed to dodge a blue shell by a fraction of a second… He was having _fun_.

Living here truly felt like something he could get used to, for the first time. He desperately missed his friends, of course, but until he was allowed to return and see them again...he would be okay. Even if he still had questions.

He got his opportunity to ask at least one of those questions when he took his and Ken’s dishes back down to the kitchen. Minato and Ryoji had gotten home at some point, and Minato was prepping things for dinner.

“Oh, hey, Akechi-kun,” he said lazily, getting vegetables out of the ice box. “Did you have a good day?”

“I… I did,” Goro said tentatively. “Amada-kun and I played video games. I...had fun.”

Minato turned to look at him, a genuine smile on his face. “I’m glad. You seem like you’re finally settling in here.”

Goro set his dishes in the sink and reminded himself that his guardians weren’t going to punish him for curiosity, and then he began tentatively, “Amada-kun said something this morning that I was wondering about, though.” He waited until Minato had tilted his head curiously, and then continued, “He said that Mochizuki-san’s mother once tried to destroy the world. And that she was like...like the demiurge. What...does that mean? Is Mochizuki-san…?”

Minato’s expression filled with nostalgia. “Come here and rinse the rice for me, and I’ll tell you about Ryoji,” he said fondly. “The abridged version, anyway, because it’s a bit of a long story.”

As Goro rinsed the rice and Minato began to chop vegetables, the older Wild Card told him the tale. Of the green moon and blood that heralded shadows intruding on their world, his own role as the lock keeping the Thirteenth Arcana from his twelve missing pieces, the amnesiac boy that had nearly broken when he’d learned his role as the Herald of the Fall.

He spoke of decisions made on New Years’s Eve, of stolen hours at the end of the world, of that last, desperate fight and what came after. And Goro listened with rapt attention, realizing slowly that maybe these two understood more than he’d given them credit for about stumbling down a path that they might not have taken, if they had seen the end ahead of time.

“Ryoji is Death given human form, no longer Nyx’s herald, but not quite human either,” Minato said. “But since I’m certain that I’m only mostly human too, it fits.”

Goro, still holding the strainer of rice, chewed his lip and tried to process everything. “No offense, but… Doesn’t that get...strange? That Mochizuki-san is...essentially a god?”

“Neither of us are gods. Being a personification is different than godhood. But, yes,” Minato said bluntly. “Very strange. I still wake up some days and have a momentary existential crisis that I’m engaged to Death. And then I come downstairs and Death is trying to clean the kitchen before I notice that he’s thrown smoothie everywhere because he didn’t put the lid on the blender properly. So it all balances out.”

That didn’t change the fact that Ryoji’s mother was the Goddess of Death on top of being the living personification of Night, but Goro decided to just nod along. This was already strange enough, knowing that his two guardians were something more than human. He was going to be processing that for a while. But Minato swept the chopped vegetables into a bowl and then turned to face him again.

“By the way, have you been having nightmares?” Minato asked. “Yu never really got them, after everything, but I know how rough it can be if you do.”

“I’ve...had a few. But I assumed that was normal considering the constant trauma this year has been,” Goro said dryly. “Picturing everything that could have gone wrong seems like a fairly logical coping response.” He looked down at the floor as Minato took the rice from him. “...I’ve dreamed that I died in Shido’s Palace. Protecting them from his false version of me.” His voice was barely audible as he forced the words out, and Minato had to listen closely to hear, “There’s a tiny part of me that has wondered if that would have been better. Don’t misunderstand; I’m not suicidal. But there is still that lingering feeling that I don’t deserve the chance to be happy after everything that I’ve done. Most days, it’s quiet, and I can ignore it, but after a nightmare...”

“I’m going to tell you something that another Wild Card told me when I was your age,” Minato said, a hint of a smile on his face. “And I know that makes me sound like a boring adult, but it’s the truth. You have a whole future ahead of you now, full of potential happiness, and unbreakable bonds with your friends. Don’t you want to be here, in this world that you helped save?”

“Of course I do,” Goro huffed. “For one thing, I know how badly my apparent death hurt Akira. I never want to see him hurt that badly ever again. And I’m acting under the assumption that you’ll let me go eventually. I just don’t know if _this_ ,” and he gestured in a way that attempted to encompass everything, “is the way things should have ended up. Is this really the best that I could do, leaving Akira alone in jail while I’m here?”

“Every ending leaves behind a million shards of unfulfilled possibilities. Echoes of what might have been, could have been, should have been.” Minato stepped forward to rest a hand on his shoulder. “And while sometimes you know that you’ve achieved the ideal, sometimes you don’t. There are no guarantees. What looks like a bad ending might have, with time, turned out well in the end. What looks like a victory may have turned out hollow. And many possibilities may never be realized because the choice that would lead to them was never found. In the end, all you can do is make the best of _your_ choice. All you can do is be as happy as you can.”

Goro swallowed hard. “I’m...trying.”

Minato squeezed his shoulder gently. “That’s all we can ask.” He turned back to the stove, calling over his shoulder, “We’re probably going to start working with your personas soon. I want to see what you and Mordred are capable of.”

“All right.” Goro moved forward to help, fetching ingredients as Minato needed them, falling into a comfortable rhythm as he prepared dinner.

A million possible endings, and no way to tell which was best. It should have been a hopeless thought, but somehow...he couldn’t bring himself to worry this time. This ending...wasn’t so terrible, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **THOU HAST ACQUIRED NEW VOWS**  
>  **CONFIDANTES RYOJI MOCHIZUKI/KOROMARU/KEN AMADA/MINATO ARISATO**  
>  **DEATH/STRENGTH/JUSTICE/UNIVERSE RANK 1**  
> 
> 
> Ended up taking an unplanned weekend off to chill with my gf. ^_^ This one is Longer Than Planned to make up for it, though. You’re basically getting one and a half chapters, and the other half plus one on Saturday, so it all balances out.
> 
> Technically, the last time Akechi took food without permission, it immediately came back to bite him, because it was the spicy takoyaki. X’D He’s finally had a breakthrough, though. It’s finally getting through his stubborn head that they really aren’t going to be like the other places he’s lived. (Thanks, Skitty, for spontaneously playing that bit out with me. I stole it. XD)
> 
> Next chapter: Goro gets his first taste of what being a real Wild Card is all about, Akira almost acts on a very terrible idea, we check in on some of the rest of the Thieves (and someone new that I've been meaning to include!), and Goro ends up dead on the floor of the living room. ;)


	58. January 19th-29th, 2017

“Lavenza, please, can’t I at least watch?” Akira asked plaintively. There were two doors and a hallway currently between him and Goro, and he was going to go crazy at this rate. His boyfriend was _right there_.

Clutching her Jack Frost plushies to her chest, Lavenza attempted a stern expression. “Minato-san will be extremely unhappy if he sees you,” she said. “Why are you even here in the middle of the day?” His demeanor had been improving gradually as he spent his evenings with the Velvet attendants instead of locked up in his small cell, but he’d never turned up in the afternoon before.

Akira shrugged. “I got bored and decided to nap to see if any of you would play poker with me.” He was getting pretty good at it, though Margaret still had an absolutely unbeatable poker face. Cards weren’t what he was interested in now, though, because he’d heard Goro’s voice somewhere in the Velvet Room, and he was agonizing over being so close. “I just want a peek. I just want to see him for one moment.”

“Akira-kun,” Lavenza said, and he couldn’t help but think she was cute, what used to be Caroline bleeding through in the pout of her lips and the way she was practically decapitating the Jack Frosts with a headlock as the attendant and the Trickster faced off.

“Lavenza,” he countered, dropping to one knee and trying to tug one of the Jack Frosts away from her playfully. She scrambled to keep hold of it, and its hat fell off, flopping to the floor between them. Both of them looked down at it, and then her golden eyes glittered with purpose.

She leaned down to pick up the hat and returned it to Jack’s head, her expression hardening into something determined. “Come with me,” she said, grabbing for his hand after shoving both plushies into the crook of one arm. “I know what we can do. But you absolutely cannot let Minato-san or any of my siblings find out.”

“Wh--” Akira let her drag him along, processing what she said, and then a grin spread across his face. “Okay. Sounds like fun.” If it would get him anywhere near Goro, he’d play along. Lavenza wouldn’t lead him astray, anyway. She was an angel and he adored her, no matter how he felt about the rest of the room.

***

Goro’s first proper glimpse of the Sea of Souls left him breathless. Stars glittered around them in every direction, an endless expanse of twinkling points of light, and for a long time he just stood silent, trying to to take it in and feeling overwhelmed. It was so much larger than the planetarium. He wished he could take pictures, but they hadn’t given him back his phone yet. And it wasn’t silent, either. There was a low tone, shifting gradually in pitch, creating a soft sound that was comforting and oddly familiar in equal measure.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Minato asked, and Goro jumped a little. The Universe laughed, circling around him and throwing his arms wide. “All of this, the collective unconsciousness, is where all of our abilities come from. Personas, shadows, magic, all of it is here.”

“It’s...incredible,” Goro murmured. “I’d never imagined that the metaverse could be something beautiful, rather than something twisted like Mementos or Palaces.”

Minato’s eyes were very faintly glowing, and Goro could tell that he was in his element. He lifted a hand in a casual gesture and called, “Orpheus,” and a gangly, robotic-looking figure in red and silver appeared behind him, sporting an oversized lyre on its back and glowing eyes that matched its master. “This is my core persona, Orpheus Telos.”

_A pleasure to make your acquaintance, little Wild Card,_ Orpheus said, its voice resonating in the empty space, harmonizing with the tones around them.

“A pleasure,” Goro replied instinctively, caught off-guard. He had never experienced someone else’s persona speaking to him before. Just Loki and Robin Hood and Mordred, bickering or addressing him in their voices so similar to his own, but so different.

He realized Minato was watching him, as if waiting, and the Universe smiled. “Well? I’d like to see Mordred, if you’ll show me.”

Goro looked down at himself, then back at Minato. “I can’t,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not considered a threat here. I don’t have my mask.”

“The outfit?” Minato asked. “I’d noticed Kurusu-kun was wearing something odd in the Velvet Room. That was related to your personas?”

“Morgana called it a ‘manifestation of our will of rebellion’. Pulling off our masks to call our true selves, or something. He or Joker would know better than me. I learned everything on my own.” Goro moved to get a better look at Orpheus, curious what the persona’s appearance could tell him about Minato. Could it actually play the lyre on its back?

Minato, meanwhile, was nodding to himself. “More like the cards than the evokers…” he said, and Goro glanced at him. Cards? Evokers? But rather than explain, Minato just smiled. “Your persona is always a part of you. You shouldn’t have to be under threat to call it. Just reach for that feeling, like you would have before.”

Goro didn’t quite get it completely, but he closed his eyes anyway. Technically he had done this before with Black Mask’s outfit. It couldn’t be so hard to call up Mordred instead. He just had to center himself, find that mindset that would allow him to reach for his powers. Picture Ace’s mask safely on his face, the red gloves that matched Joker’s, the cape that trailed behind him as he moved… Being Ace was...happiness. Safety. Feeling like he belonged, not like he was trying to shut himself away behind a knight’s armor. He heard Minato make a surprised noise and opened his eyes again, finding himself back in his familiar thief gear, and he grinned, reaching up to lift his mask from his face. “That was easier than I thought,” he mused, and crushed the mask into blue fire. “Rise, Mordred!”

The armored figure flickered into being behind him, and for a split-second he was irrationally worried that Minato would think he was silly, having some sort of spectral knight for a persona. It hadn’t occurred to him until exactly that moment that he was showing Minato his innermost self, taking the risk that it would be judged. But there was a spark of wonder in Minato’s stormy eyes, and the Universe looked up at the other persona with respect.

“He suits you,” Minato said softly. “After everything you’ve been through, calling up an ultimate like this definitely shows how far you’ve come.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I wish I’d been able to see Loki and Robin Hood. Lady Belladonna said they were really impressive, even if having them both meant that you were hurting.”

“They argued a lot,” Goro snorted. “It grated on my last nerve sometimes, to have to listen to their comments. But I do miss them.” He looked up at Mordred. “This was a relief, though. To turn down Shido and I know that I had this kind of potential. And I definitely don’t miss the berserker powers. They did more harm than good.”

“With that much pain and chaos inside you, it makes sense that it would translate to an ability to make other people feel even a fraction of it.” Minato waved a hand, and Orpheus disappeared. “We’re not here to fight today, though. I just wanted to see your persona up-close.”

Goro dismissed Mordred, though he didn’t return his mask to his face, holding it loosely in one hand instead. “What are we doing, then?” He’d been under the impression that Minato was going to tutor him or something, to make him stronger. Learning from the strongest persona-user would have been incredible. He was almost disappointed that he wouldn’t get to test his strength against the Universe, even if he knew deep-down that he wouldn’t be able to win.

Minato turned and started to walk deeper into the Sea, waving Goro to follow and leaving the freestanding Velvet door behind them. Once Goro caught up, he said casually, “You saw Kurusu-kun negotiate with the shadows, right? Convincing them to lend him their power? You’re a Wild Card, too. You have the same abilities, though probably a little more limited because your arcana is Justice. We’re going to test that out. The shadows in the Sea aren’t hostile, so you won’t have to fight, just talk to them.”

It was a short walk, and then Minato lifted a hand and hailed an Archangel that was crossing the Sea. The shadow stopped, looking them over with a dismissive expression, and Goro instinctively put his mask back on, feeling Mordred in the back of his mind trying to soothe his instinctive nerves. He didn’t have any weapons; it was only fair that he was a little afraid, because Minato had stepped aside with clear intentions to let him do this on his own.

The Archangel drifted closer, taking in Goro’s outfit, and he tried to stand firm like Joker would as it asked with a burst of recognition, _“You’re one of the Phantom Thieves, are you not? You cleared the distortion from our Sea.”_

“We did,” Goro replied, getting a sense that this shadow wouldn’t appreciate fluffy interview answers. “The God of Control would have destroyed everything, cognition and reality alike. We had to do something.”

_“If the threat is gone, why are you here?”_ the Archangel asked, and Goro glanced at Minato, who gave him a thumbs-up with a completely neutral expression. 

Goro rolled his eyes. That was so unhelpful that he could barely process it, but at least it seemed like he was on the right track so far. “I…” he began, and then stopped. A real answer, a serious answer, that was what he needed. Archangels were Justice, light magic, they would appreciate honesty, wouldn’t they? “I… want to become stronger. I want to learn, in case something like that ever happens again. And for that I need help. I need to learn to borrow the power of others. Like… Like he can. I need to keep learning that I don’t have to do things alone.”

He wasn’t sure where the words had come from, but they seemed to be the right thing to say, because the Archangel drifted back from him with a vaguely impressed hum. _“Your heart is strong. You petition for power not for yourself, but to protect others in the future. Very well. If you have need, call upon me, and I shall come.”_

The shadow was bathed in light, and Goro felt his mask glow in response, as if another layer had been added to the simple black fabric. He had to shut his eyes against the brightness, but when he opened them again, the shadow was gone, and he could faintly feel a new power resting alongside his heart. He turned to Minato, eyes wide, wondering if he had done well, but almost reeled back instinctively as Minato walked over to rest his hands on his shoulders.

“You got that on the first try,” Minato said, and Goro’s eyes got even wider at the look on his face, unable to process even as his guardian continued, “I’m proud of you.”

_Proud of him._ It had been implied, during the time that he’d been here, that they were proud of him for all kinds of things, for putting up with Sonomura-san’s questions and for being honest and for all the ‘progress’ that he had apparently made, but to have it said directly to him like that…

Minato seemed to realize that he was feeling overwhelmed, because he just took his arm and walked him back towards the door, humming along to a song that he didn’t recognize. After a bit, he said casually, “That’s probably enough for today. Now that we know you can negotiate with your own arcana, we’ll have to see what else you have an affinity for. And maybe we can do some sparring next time, because I want to see what you can do, especially now that you can call on two personas. It’ll make you more versatile.” And it would be more fair in terms of going up against someone with an entire arsenal of shadows at his beck and call. Even if Minato was planning to go easy on him. Or sic Ryoji on him instead.

Goro just nodded dumbly. It didn’t feel like a lot, one additional persona, especially compared to everything Akira could do, but he knew he shouldn’t be comparing himself to his boyfriend. Minato was proud of him. That should be enough for now, but it was hard, as the adrenaline from the initial compliment wore off. Sonomura-san said he needed to learn to accept praise at face-value and not overthink it after the fact, and he was starting to understand what she meant.

Lavenza met them at the door, holding her Jack Frosts and a very thin book, and Minato patted her on the head fondly. “Lavenza, will you do me a favor and walk Goro back to our door? I wanna ask Igor something.”

“Of course, Minato-san.” She waited until he was walking away, then looked up at Goro. “Did you like the Sea?”

“It was beautiful,” he replied honestly, but he couldn’t help but focus on the book she was carrying. It was much smaller than her usual book, and he asked quietly, “What’s that?”

Lavenza beamed. “Your compendium, Goro-kun,” she said, holding it up with one hand. “Your bonds and your personas are all chronicled in here, just like Akira-kun and our prior guests have their own.”

He accepted the book carefully and flipped it open. Pictures of people he was close to filled the first few pages, and then there were four pages of personas. Robin, Loki, Mordred, and now the Archangel, a short history of his experiences as a Wild Card. The book ended there, but he knew from seeing the compendiums that the others carried that it could only grow larger from here. There was so much room to grow, to keep getting better.

When he passed it back to Lavenza, she set it carefully on one of the tables in the lounge and then waved him to follow her. Once they made it back to the door to the dorm, Lavenza glanced around, then held up one of the Jack Frosts with a small smile. “I want you to have this, Goro-kun.”

“Your plush?” Goro took it, but looked baffled. “But we got these for you. I couldn’t take it from you.”

“I spoke to Akira-kun,” Lavenza assured him. “I have no need of two, and you need a good-luck charm.” There was something mischievous in her expression as she continued, “You can bring it with you when you visit. We can be a matching set.”

Goro smiled, wrapping his arm around the plush to mimic her. “A matching set, huh? I guess it’s only fair that I get a present and not Akira, since he got to know you a lot sooner than I did. I’m making up for lost time.”

“And they’re identical, so it won’t actually matter if we mix them up,” Lavenza said brightly. “But don’t tell Minato-san that the gift was Akira-kun’s idea. Akira-kun said you’re supposed to keep things like that ‘under your hat’.”

That got a laugh out of Goro, and he nodded amiably. “Of course, of course, I won’t tell. I don’t want to lose it, since we worked so hard to get the second one.”

Lavenza sent him home with a hug and the plush, and he went up to his room to place it carefully on his bed. Would it be childish to sleep while cuddling it? Apparently Akira had wanted him to have it… It wouldn’t be the same as having Akira, but…

He froze. Akira had wanted him to have it.

_“Keep things like that under your hat.”_

There was no way Akira would be that ridiculous. But Goro sat down on the bed and pulled Jack Frost’s hat off anyway. A folded piece of paper tumbled from beneath it onto the duvet, and despite his best efforts, his hands shook as he picked it up.

> _Hey, Goro. I don’t have a lot of time to write, because I don’t know when you guys will be done. Lavenza came up with this idea to pass notes, though. Since there’s two plushies, we can switch them out without suspicion!_
> 
> _I’m doing okay. It’s been a lot easier ever since I’ve started being able to get to the Room, even though it’s kind of annoying that everybody’s so determined to follow the rules about me not seeing you. I hope you’re doing all right, too. Write back when you can._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Akira_

Goro buried his face in his hands. Leave it to a Trickster and his attendant to come up with something so elegantly simple and absurd at the same time. God, he loved him so much. So much.

There was only so much space under Jack Frost’s hat. He’d have to start figuring out what to say, so he was ready for his next practice session. This was...such a relief.

***

Akira, despite Lavenza’s explicit insistence that he stay out of sight, watched from the far end of the hallway as Arisato Minato left the Velvet Room through a very specific door. He’d tried to stay far enough back that Minato wouldn’t notice his presence, and it appeared to be working, because the older Wild Card left with no indication that he had any idea he was being spied on.

Arsène was laughing at him in the back of his mind. _I had no idea you enjoyed being a thief this much._

Akira ignored him, padding silently down the hallway towards the door. It was a perfectly ordinary-looking door, and Akira grabbed the doorknob and opened it just a crack. He could just barely make out a staircase and a hallway, like it was some sort of house, but before he could open it any further both of his arms were unceremoniously grabbed and he was hauled bodily away from the door.

“Youuuu don’t want to do that~”

Akira squirmed as the door drifted closed again. A glance to either side revealed Elizabeth and Theodore each holding one of his arms. “I kind of do, actually. Will you let go of me?”

“Nope!” Elizabeth sang.

When no further explanation was forthcoming, Akira looked over at Theodore instead, who smiled apologetically. “Don’t misunderstand, Akira-kun. We really can’t let you go out there.”

“I know about the rules,” Akira grouched. “I just wanted to see where they’re keeping him. Everyone keeps telling me he’s safe, I just...would rather see for myself.”

Theodore let go of him and stepped back. “I understand, really, but it actually isn’t about the rules.”

“...it’s not?” Now Akira was more curious than annoyed, and Elizabeth let go of him too as he stopped tugging to get free. “What’s it about, then?”

“Think for a moment,” Theodore said. “You are not truly here. Only your consciousness is here, as your physical body is asleep in your prison cell. Were you to attempt to leave the Velvet Room, you would be insubstantial in Reality.”

Akira couldn’t help but smile. “Like a ghost?” Maybe he could haunt Goro. Or at least, haunt Goro’s wardens. Open their cabinets. Move the TV remote around while they weren’t looking. Be as annoying as possible.

“Indeed,” Elizabeth said, “but pure cognition is not meant to exist out there uncontained. Minato-san’s summoning ability is an anomaly. If you were to leave the Room as only consciousness, you may disappear completely, and then your body will never wake up. We don’t know, and it is not worth the risk.”

“...y-yeah.” That was a bit more than Akira had been expecting, and he was forced to concede that they were right. So much for spying on the Shadow Operatives as a grumpy poltergeist. At least he knew which door it was. “Thanks for...not letting me dissolve, I guess?”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said brightly. “Our master suggested that you might attempt such, and requested that we keep an eye on you.”

The thought of Igor left a sour taste in Akira’s mouth, and he forced a smile. “In that case, I should probably go. I don’t want to sleep through dinner or something by accident.”

Elizabeth and Theodore watched him disappear back in the direction of the lounge, and exchanged a glance. That boy was definitely going to be a handful. Minato wanted them to keep an eye on him, but that was mostly to keep him from doing something stupid, as he’d just been about to.

They certainly weren’t going to stop him if he worked out something particularly clever. It would be too funny watching Minato figure out how to deal with him.

* * *

* * *

Things in Tokyo had calmed down significantly in the aftermath of everything that had happened at Christmas. The Thieves continued to avoid the Shadow Operatives like the plague unless they were exchanging information, which was probably best for everyone involved.

The most disappointing thing, for Ryuji at least, was that the poll on the phan-site had dropped and stabilized at a solid fifty percent belief in the Phantom Thieves. It was fair, since people didn’t remember the fight against the God of Control, but still. They’d managed to get Shido and all of those others to confess. Futaba had sent Sae information about where to find the SIU Director and all kinds of other people connected to Shido. The case was coming together in bits and pieces.

But there was still Akira.

Shirogane-san had come through with a tip, and Makoto and Haru were following through on it, off on a day trip with Ohya-san to Akira’s hometown to look for the woman that had been involved in his original case. To beg her to testify at his hearing. It was a major step, but it left the rest of them without much to do until they knew what she said. So Ryuji was planning to spend the day with Ann and Shiho, and then probably meet up with Futaba later to discuss their ongoing plans to track down Goro.

“Where are you off to today?” his mother asked as he patted down his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and phone. “Spending the day with your friends?”

“Eh, just Ann and Shiho. Makoto and Haru are busy, Yusuke’s working on something for some gallery deadline, y’know how it is,” Ryuji replied, shrugging.

His mother set the last of the breakfast dishes aside and turned to face him, smiling wryly. “And I suppose Kurusu-kun is out of the question because he’s still in jail?”

Ryuji blinked, feeling remarkably like he had that time at Ichigawa when he’d actually managed to hook a fish, and promptly tugged it out of the water hard enough to slap himself in the face with it. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and finally stammered, “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Don’t even bother, dear,” Ms. Sakamoto said. “Do you really think I didn’t recognize my own son, twenty feet tall on the Shibuya TV screens? Strangers might not be able to figure it out, but I’m your mother. I’ll always know it’s you.”

“Mom…” Ryuji began.

“Of course, I had my suspicions before then. You’re not exactly quiet on the phone, Ryu.”

_Damn it._ Makoto could never hear about this, or he would never live it down. “So you’ve known the whole time?” He should have known; Akira’s parents had called because they’d recognized him, so of course his mom would know. Even though he’d stayed in silhouette for most of the video.

She came over to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Not the whole time, but long enough. I wasn’t sure until after Okumura-chan’s father… well. And that calling card was just confirmation. Don’t think I didn’t recognize Takamaki-chan up there, too. And I’m assuming that the rest of your friends that you’ve talked about were the rest of them.”

Ryuji ducked his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, mom, but I just… We were… I didn’t want to get you involved, especially after all that shit with Haru’s dad…”

“Ryuji.” She waited until he looked up at her, eyes filled with affection. “I understand. Seeing the aftermath of all of this, I understand why your identity needed to stay a secret. But now you’ve clearly been worried about something else, so if you need to talk to me, I’m here.”

He swallowed hard. “It’s Akira, mom,” he said roughly. “He went to jail to protect the rest of us, and the government’s got Goro, and we’re tryin’ to figure out how to help them. It’s just...really hard.”

Ms. Sakamoto pulled him into a hug, holding him close. “If there is anything that I can do, for any of you, tell me. Your friends are important to you, so they’re important to me, too.”

“Thanks, mom.” He was surprisingly relieved that she knew. He wasn’t going to tell her about the metaverse, not yet, anyway, but at least he could talk about some of it. At least he didn’t have to lie anymore. “I gotta go meet Ann, but… I want to talk later. And when Akira gets outta prison, I want you to meet him. He’s...really something.”

“I’d be happy to.” His mother gave him a last squeeze and then let him go, and he grinned before heading for the door. 

***

He spotted Ann lingering on a bench near the station in Shibuya and made a beeline for her. There wasn’t a crowd around her, but he still tried to keep his voice a relatively normal volume as he said, “Ann, she knows! My mom knows!”

“Knows _what?_ ” Ann asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “That all of our study sessions are video game marathons? That you almost passed out doing the Big Bang Burger challenge? I need context.”

“She knows we’re phantom thieves,” Ryuji blurted, just in time for Shiho to reach the bench, carrying three crepes and looking shocked.

“What?” she and Ann asked in unison, and Ann looked at her best friend with alarm. But Shiho just sat down next to her, handing a crepe to her and one to Ryuji and then asking, “Who knows?”

“M-My mom,” Ryuji clarified, confused as hell. “Wait, why don’t you look surprised? Did _you_ know?”

Shiho smiled sheepishly. “I guessed, after everything with Kamoshida. You, and Ann, and Kurusu-kun… You had the most reasons to do something like that to him. Except Mishima-kun, but I didn’t think he would be brave enough. But I was never actually sure it was you until just now.”

“God, Ryuji, it’s a wonder your big mouth never got us caught while everything was actually going on,” Ann huffed, exasperated. “We don’t know that Akira being in jail will keep them from arresting us if they actually hear us admit it, so pipe down!” She took an aggressive bite of her crepe, and once she’d swallowed, she asked more quietly, “Why didn’t you ever say anything, Shiho?”

“I knew there had to be a reason you weren’t telling me. And I was right, wasn’t I?” Shiho said. “Look at the terrible people you went up against. Your secret identity was important. The best thing I could do to support the Phantom Thieves was to stay quiet and keep what I thought to myself.”

“I did it for us, at first,” Ann told her, the tiniest hitch in her voice. “That’s why I became a thief. To get him back for what he’d done to you and me.” She laughed weakly. “We didn’t start being all noble about changing society until after.”

“You’re wrong about Mishima, though,” Ryuji said offhandedly. “He’s pretty involved. He runs the phan-site, and he knows Akira’s identity.”

“He’s the admin?” Shiho’s eyes widened. “That’s kind of impressive, actually. People on the forum could get really out of hand, especially in November. He modded the whole thing by himself?” When Ann and Ryuji nodded, she shook her head disbelievingly. “That’s incredible…” It shouldn’t be a surprise that she and Mishima had both changed, after everything that they’d been through, but to think of quiet, timid Mishima and the passionate, authoritative admin of the site as the same person was taking a bit of work to reconcile.

Ann beamed, shuffling down to lean her head on Shiho’s shoulder. “Your crepe is melting,” she pointed out, giggling as the other girl hurried to keep ice-cream from spilling everywhere. Once they were no longer in danger of making a vanilla-cheesecake mess, Ann heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I guess my parents are going to figure it out eventually. What am I supposed to tell them?”

“All my mom knows is that I’m a thief, not how we did it. That might be a bit much.” Ryuji shrugged. “If only Boss and Makoto’s sister know all the details, that’s fine. I don’t think mom would wanna hear how much dangerous shit we did anyway.”

“Fair point,” Ann said, at the same time that Shiho said, “I want to hear, though,” and they all ended up laughing. Ann recovered first, and offered, “When we finish our crepes, let's go back to my place, then. We can tell you some _weird_ stuff. Did you know we robbed a space station?”

“A _what?_ ” Shiho gasped, and the look on her face destroyed any lingering anxiety about more people knowing their secret. It was too full of wonder to not want to tell her everything, and they returned to their crepes with gusto. Ann and Ryuji were already planning dramatic ways to describe the things that had happened, because even if the situations hadn’t always been good, the Palaces were always unbelievable.

* * *

* * *

Sunday dawned lazy and quiet. Goro took advantage of sleeping in more often than he cared to admit lately, but no one minded, and he was finally getting used to that.

When he finally dragged himself out of bed, he stumbled into the kitchen, already debating whether to make breakfast or skip straight to lunch. Fried rice was sounding really good, and he ignored the murmur of voices from the living room as he searched the cabinets for the frying pan. It wasn’t where it was supposed to be, though, and he rolled his eyes and wandered in to interrupt the conversation.

“Arisato-san, I can’t find the--”

But he fell silent as he realized that most of the people in the living room weren’t the usual residents. Minato was lounging on one of the sofas with a blonde girl that he vaguely recognized, and on the other sofa… “Shirogane-san?” he asked tentatively. “What are you doing here?”

Naoto smiled at him from behind a mug of tea. “Good morning, Akechi-kun. Minato was just telling us about how you were holding your own against Ryoji the other day.”

He _had_ done pretty well against Ryoji and Thanatos when they’d sparred, even if he’d lost in the end. But it hit him like a physical blow that Shirogane Naoto knew about personas. That the Detective Princess, his childhood idol, was apparently a Shadow Operative. That was the only reason Minato would be telling them about him, because to everyone else in Iwatodai he was just the kid they were taking care of. He managed to stammer out a ‘good morning’ in response, gaze drifting back to the blonde girl sitting by Minato. She had been with Naoto at the police precinct, her name was...Aigis, but she wasn’t wearing nice clothes now, and Goro felt his brain rattle as he realized that she was some kind of _robot_. He very carefully set aside his reaction to that to look at the last guest, sitting beside Naoto. And that was enough to knock the rest of his stability away from him.

“Akechi-kun?” the third girl asked, concerned, and he shut his eyes.

“I...need to sit down.” He didn’t even go for a chair, just sank to the carpet just inside the doorway. Because his other idol, Takeba Yukari, was sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee, relaxed like she was completely at home in the dorm. It was too much. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Oh, right, Goro-kun’s a huge Featherman fan. Did we mention that part?” Ryoji called, stepping over Goro into the living room, and Goro made a wild grab for his leg, already turning an embarrassing shade of red. Ryoji stumbled but didn’t go down, trying to shake him off, and Goro clawed ineffectively at his shin before becoming aware of Yukari giggling.

“Gosh, I remember when all of us would get together and watch Featherman on Saturdays,” she said cheerfully, and Goro went limp on the floor.

“Arisato-san.”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you mention that you went to school with Takeba Yukari?”

Minato covered his mouth to hide a smile. “Because your reaction is amazing.”

That was when Goro noticed that Minato had his phone out, and the light that indicated it was recording was on. _“No.”_

“Look, we’re trying to do this right, and that means documenting your progress.” Minato cut the phone off and tucked it in his pocket, still smiling in an infuriatingly smug way. “I’ll go make lunch, since we have guests. You should talk to them.” He darted out of the room before Goro could get up, and Goro groaned, forcing himself to his feet.

He turned to the couches and ducked his head politely. “Well, as you already know, I’m Akechi Goro. It’s...an honor to meet you properly, Shirogane-san, Aigis-san, T-Takeba-san…” What were the chances that his two greatest heroes were both Shadow Operatives? That he would get to talk to them, with both of them in the same room? Never even minding the question of what Aigis was.

He nearly died all over again when Yukari patted the space next to her on the couch. “Well, come on then, tell us about what it’s like living here with those two idiots!”

“Hey!” Ryoji cried, but Goro ignored him, trying to restrain himself enough to casually sit down on the couch with Yukari.

“It’s far better than I deserve, Takeba-san,” he said honestly. “I’m...really happy they’re taking care of me.”

Yukari looked surprised for a second, then smiled radiantly. “In that case, I’m sure you’ve got a hundred questions about Featherman. So go ahead. Ask away.”

He couldn’t even be embarrassed this time. He was too happy.

He couldn’t wait to tell Akira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **THOU HAST ACQUIRED A NEW VOW**   
>  **CONFIDANTE LAVENZA**   
>  **STAR RANK 1**   
> 
> 
> I'm having a good time with the kids gradually getting back to normal. Enough sads. Even if Akira's still in prison, he's doing better, and Goro's finding his space.
> 
> [The Sea of Souls sounds like this. Cut the animation on. ^_^](https://mynoise.net/NoiseMachines/twilightSoundscapeGenerator.php)
> 
> And holy crap I finally found a space to introduce Ryuji's mom. I've been trying to find a spot for Ryuji's mom for ages and ages and ages, and it just didn't fit, and now that I'm doing more bits and pieces there was finally room.
> 
> Next chapter: I dunno how much of the trial and probation hearing I actually want to do, but they're coming up. We're also catching up with someone that's been missing, and it's a certain someone's birthday (ironically enough, considering whose birthday it was today XD).


	59. February 1st-11th, 2017

Every seat in Sojiro’s living room was filled as the Phantom Thieves gathered to watch what was quite possibly the most important moment of their careers. Futaba had hooked up her computer to the large television, and was currently broadcasting live feed from the security cameras in the courtroom as Shido Masayoshi’s trial began.

The trial was closed to the public due to the importance of the case, but even if it hadn’t been, they wouldn’t have been able to go, not even to support Akira. He’d given himself up to keep them from being implicated; if all of them showed up as a group it could cast undue suspicion on them. The last thing they needed were accusations that they were trying to wrongfully influence the trial or get to their leader. So they were stuck relying on Futaba to hack into the camera feeds.

Even Sojiro had given up and decided not to open Leblanc for the day after the fourth time he caught himself stopping to watch Futaba set everything up. All of them were worried about Akira, including him, and they all wanted to see Shido go down for his crimes.

“When are they gonna start?” Ryuji asked impatiently.

“They have to follow procedure,” Makoto countered, despite her own agitation.

They all watched as Sae and the defense attorney gave their opening statements. Sae painted a picture of a man that wove a web of money and blackmail and threats of harm to imprison others, using them to do his bidding in his quest to be prime minister. Her opponent, in what was becoming a typical defense against the Phantom Thieves, claimed that whatever the Thieves had done had altered his mental state so severely that he wasn’t aware of what he was saying.

But the circumstances of Shido’s confession didn’t change the severity of his crimes, and over the span of hours, Sae laid out a convincing path of evidence leading from lowly cops taking bribes all the way up through Yakuza connections. By the time the day ended, there had been multiple witnesses testifying to layers of corruption that grew ever-closer to Shido. Even without a supernatural assassin doing his bidding, Shido had been making incredibly shady alliances and manipulating multiple people.

Sojiro said nothing when they all decided to sleep over, scattered around his living room on the floor and the furniture. They stayed up talking about all the details, the things that Shido had done that even they hadn’t known about, until they couldn’t anymore, and Sojiro was left to throw blankets over the passed-out teenagers with a fond expression. Tomorrow was truly what they were all waiting for, anyway. Low-level crooks and new information were interesting, but the big stuff, the assassinations, Akira’s testimony… That was what they all wanted to see.

The next morning, fixing breakfast for all of them, Sojiro was forced to acknowledge that somehow he’d ended up accidentally semi-adopting eight kids, counting the ones that were missing. It wasn’t strange, having them all in the house, and as Haru and Ann playfully bickered over the last piece of bacon and Yusuke filled his plate a third time, their rather grumpy pseudo-guardian couldn’t help but smile.

Once they were all in front of the TV again, day 2 of the trial started without any time for anyone to brace themselves. Sae started in on the more prominent connections Shido had immediately. The VIPs whose shadows they’d fought on the cruise ship, Okumura, anyone that Shido had promised breakdowns and shutdowns in return for support. And that was when they brought out Akira, and the Thieves practically plastered themselves to the TV.

Their leader looked tired, but grimly determined. He talked about their heists in a clipped, professional tone, speaking of the metaverse as simplistically as possible. There was no mention of the sort of fantastical shapes that Palaces had taken, just a brief description of the mental world in the dry terminology of cognitive psience. Suou-san had told them what sort of things Akira was going to say, having dropped by the cafe to give them all an update a few days prior to the trial, but it was still strange to hear their adventures described in such a bland way.

“So you claim that Shido-san was using an assassin to cause these mental shutdowns,” the defense said. “And what happened to that assassin? Who was it?”

Akira looked down at his lap. “We never knew his name,” he said with ease. “We called him ‘Black Mask’, because that’s what everyone else who knew he existed called him. He was protecting Shido’s Palace, and we fought him there so that we could enact a change of heart. He died afterwards attempting to escape the Palace before it collapsed.”

The defense seemed unconvinced. “And how are you so certain that he died?”

“We saw him get caught in an explosion. We tried to get to him, but it was too late. Everything was falling apart. The Palace collapsed and took his body with it.”

Multiple truths spun together to create something convincing: Cognitive Akechi’s fate and the presumed death of the real Goro blended together to enable something that _technically_ wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth or context.

The Thieves observing through the cameras watched Akira answer a few more questions, and then he was allowed to step down from the witness stand. Sae called up both an ‘Officer Sanada’ who had been present at the Casino heist, and the SIU Director himself, who was testifying in order to lighten his own sentences of conspiracy and forging evidence. Officer Sanada corroborated Akira’s description of the mental landscape, and the Director confirmed that he had passed orders to the Black Mask under Shido’s direction.

None of them mentioned Goro. No one even tried.

It seemed like an airtight case, but in the end, the judges held all the power, and the trial dragged on so long that deliberation was pushed to a third day.

Sojiro refused to let them skip school for the third day in a row, so they all rushed over as soon as the day was over, clamoring for any scrap of news they could get.

Futaba and Sojiro were subdued.

“It’s over,” Futaba said, but there was no joy in her voice. “He’s guilty. They gave him the death penalty.”

A general uncomfortable feeling fell over the room, though no one could really articulate why. It was Haru who finally managed to put it to words, as she said, “I know that he did terrible things...but we never wanted him to die. We wanted him to live, and pay for his crimes.”

“I suppose he’s paying for them with his life, like Goro wanted originally…” Makoto murmured.

“I want to be glad that he’ll be gone,” Ann huffed. “Even if it’s tasteless to be glad someone’s going to die, I want to be happy that he won’t be around to hurt anyone anymore. Especially Akira and Goro. But… I can’t… This wasn’t how I pictured this ending up at all.”

“Boss,” Yusuke said, “what happens now?”

Sojiro sighed heavily. “He can appeal the ruling. They always try to push for the death penalty when multiple murders are involved, and on top of the mental shutdowns, Shido’s left even more destruction in his wake. I’m not surprised the judges handed it down. But realistically, with all the possible appeals, it’ll be at least three, maybe five years at minimum before his sentence would be carried out. And any one of those appeals could downgrade it to life in prison.” He looked around at all of them sternly, from one melancholy face to the next, and continued, “Whatever happens from here on, though, isn’t your fault. Shido committed his own crimes, and was judged for them. Whether he was outed by law enforcement or the Phantom Thieves makes no difference in the end. So I don’t want any of you feeling guilty over his sentence, whatever the outcome is. Got it?”

They all nodded, some more reluctantly than others, and Sojiro folded his arms. “Good. Now get your things. I’m taking all of you out for dinner.”

Even with lingering uneasy feelings, none of them were going to turn down that invitation, and Sojiro ended up leading the way to Yongen-Jaya station with the Phantom Thieves trailing behind him like ducklings. At the very least, this was one thing out of the way. Now they just needed to get through Akira’s probation hearing, and maybe everyone could finally start getting over the mess this year had turned into.

***

In Iwatodai, dinner was interrupted by the sound of Minato’s phone going off somewhere in the living room. He ducked away from a rousing discussion of the best bike routes through the city to answer it, and none of them thought anything of it. Ryoji was serving dessert by the time he got back, but it was obvious as soon as he sat down that something was wrong.

“Who was it, Minato-senpai?” Ken asked. Koromaru whined beside him, and Goro’s grip tightened on his fork. He didn’t know why, but there was a pit of anxiety in his stomach that only got worse as Minato looked right at him.

“Akechi-kun,” Minato asked quietly. “Have you watched the news today at all?”

Goro frowned. “No… I was out with Mochizuki-san for most of the afternoon. What is it? Did something happen?” He was already picturing the worst.

“Shido was sentenced today,” Minato said. “He was given the death penalty.”

“Oh.” Goro knew what that meant. He knew that it would be a long time before the sentence was actually carried out, if it wasn’t overturned. But something about it in general made him feel like he was being choked, and he got up and bowed his head quickly. “Please excuse me, I...need a minute.” He didn’t linger to see their reactions, heading for the hallway. One step up the stairs, he realized that he didn’t want to go to his room either, and he floundered helplessly, frozen with one foot propped on the bottom step. And then, with barely the conscious thought to move, he went instead to the Velvet door and vanished inside.

Lavenza was concerned by his distress, but he promised her that he just needed time and space to process something, so she promised to leave him alone after pointing him towards a hallway that contained smaller rooms instead of the main living areas. And so he found himself in an empty-looking guest bedroom, and finally sank down and collapsed.

He’d spent so long wanting Shido to die, and now that there was a possibility it might happen, he didn’t know how to feel. There was a lingering disappointment that he couldn’t do it himself, but also a surprising regret that Shido _wouldn’t_ have to live with his guilt for the rest of his natural life. 

He didn’t know what to think or how he was supposed to be reacting. Without his all-consuming rage towards Shido, his emotions were just confused, and he buried his face in his knees and stayed there until a familiar voice exclaimed, “Goro?”

Goro looked up. There was a boy standing in the doorway, someone that he had never seen before, which was strange, because he thought he had become at least passingly acquainted with most of the residents of this bizarre blue space. This boy was younger, appearing somewhere in age between Lavenza and Futaba. But he had messy dark hair and familiar unreal blue eyes that didn’t match the other attendants at all. Goro stared at him, and the boy grinned. “It is you! What are you doing here?”

Goro’s eyes widened. He knew that voice. “M-Morgana?!”

The boy beamed, coming over to get a better look at him. “Wow, you look really different. What have they been doing to you?”

“Different?” Goro asked, glancing down at himself. “ _I_ look different? Out of the two of us, I believe you’re the one who should be answering the questions.”

Morgana flopped down beside him. “There’s a lot more hope now than there was the first time I woke up. Master Igor helped me come back so I had a proper human form this time!” He pulled at the Velvet-blue t-shirt he was wearing, looking a little self-conscious. “I wanted to be older. Or taller, at least. Nobody will take me seriously like this.”

“You look like you could be Akira’s little brother,” Goro blurted.

“Oh…” Morgana said. “I do, huh? That...wouldn’t be such a bad thing, I guess. Joker would be a pretty cool big brother.” He swatted at Goro’s arm. “But hey, what are you doing here? Why did you look so upset?”

“Did anyone tell you what happened after Christmas?” Goro asked, and when Morgana shook his head Goro started explaining about Akira turning himself in and his time with the Shadow Operatives. He kept it brief, and concluded, “So I just...don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling about Shido. I still hate him, but all of this is confusing and I don’t know if I want him dead anymore.”

Morgana flopped over into his lap, apparently forgetting that he wasn’t a cat anymore. “Do you have to pick right now?” he asked. “I don’t think anyone’s going to get mad if you wait to see how you feel later.”

“I suppose not.” It was such a simple answer. Goro kind of wanted to punch himself for overthinking. “This is the first major thing that’s happened since Christmas,” he tried to explain. “I’m used to having to be ready to speak about my impressions of things right away, since I was such a public figure.”

“It sounds like you’re living a pretty normal life now, though,” Morgana pointed out, and Goro smiled.

“I am. It’s...nice.” He went biking with Ryoji, played video games with Ken, took his turn walking Koromaru since apparently Koromaru counted as a chaperone… And even on the more supernatural side of things, he’d negotiated with more personas and was learning to swap between them easily. Minato had shown him fusion spells and elements that he didn’t even know were possible. And he’d performed his very first fusion, a Principality and a Regent combining to give him a Power. It was strange to watch Igor and Lavenza manipulate the tarot cards, after all the terrible hints Akira had dropped about guillotines and gallows, but he’d accepted the new persona happily, knowing that Minato _and_ the Velvet residents were proud of him.

In the comfortable silence that fell, eventually Morgana asked, “Hey, do me a favor? I know you said you can’t talk to the others, but if you do, don’t tell them you saw me. I want to surprise them.”

“I can keep a secret,” Goro replied, holding a finger to his lips. “But I’ve heard that Akira visits the Velvet Room too. Be careful to avoid him.”

“Don’t worry! I’m the original Phantom Thief!” Morgana declared brightly. “I can hide from Joker, no problem.”

Goro chuckled. “Of course you can…” He still needed to return to the dorm and apologize for running out, but that could wait a little longer. For now, he just appreciated the reunion, as small as it was.

...although…

...Morgana counted as a Phantom Thief. Was this against the rules?

Oh well.

* * *

* * *

The best part about the probation hearing was the elated realization that the woman from his original assault case had stepped up to give a statement about what really happened that night. Akira could barely believe it when it was read in court, but she’d told the truth at last about Shido’s actions and his part in everything. The probation officer was boggled that _Shido_ , the same Shido who had just been publicly convicted of a multitude of crimes, happened to be the same man that had put the Leader of the Phantom Thieves on probation in the first place.

The worst part about the probation hearing was that he didn’t get any answers right away. They had to review his files and the answers he’d given to their questions, as well as the statements from witnesses and recommendations from the wardens of the juvenile detention center, plus take all of his testimony from the Shido trial into account. So it was nearly half a week that Akira sat in his tiny cell wondering what the answer would be, and on Saturday morning he stared at the wall and considered sleeping all day. At least if he spent his birthday with the Velvet attendants, it would be less miserable than this.

But the universe wasn’t having it, and less than five minutes after Akira had crawled back into bed and yanked the blanket over his face there was a banging knock on the door and a guard walked in.

“Kurusu, you have a visitor. Get up.”

There was only one visitor he was allowed to have, and he threw on clean prison scrubs and followed the guard to the visitors’ area. Sae was waiting on the other side of the glass, and he took his seat nervously. She’d only be here if there was news, and he was a little afraid that it wouldn’t be good. But Sae just smiled and showed him a sheaf of paperwork through the glass.

“Happy birthday, Akira-kun,” she said. “As of today, you’re a free man. I just have to file this paperwork.”

His mouth fell open. He could feel himself brightening, the weight of confinement already falling away. Sae’s smile grew at his elated reaction, and she gestured to the guard behind him. “I’m going to go file this; he’ll take you through release processing. You’re going home.”

Akira hadn’t brought anything to jail with him except the clothes on his back, so that part went quickly. He stepped out to meet Sae with the biggest smile he’d shown anyone in weeks, and she ushered him into her car in the exact opposite of his arrival.

“We’re going straight to Yongen,” she said once they were on the road. “It’s not public knowledge that you’re the dreadful Thief of Hearts, so you won’t need to worry about reporters or anything.”

“I’d only talk to Ohya anyway,” Akira huffed.

Sae laughed. “Good. Prison didn’t make you any less sharp.”

She took a slightly roundabout way to Yongen, but eventually they parked at the end of the street. Akira wanted to fly to the cafe immediately, but he hovered by the car, still deferring instinctively to someone connected to the police. But Sae just walked around to where he was waiting and nudged him gently towards Leblanc, and he tried to have at least enough restraint to not sprint towards the door.

The bell chimed as he stepped into Leblanc and was enveloped by a cacophony.

“Happy birthday, Akira!”

All of his friends and Sojiro were waiting, with balloons and streamers and real food, not bland prison meals but sushi and curry and coffee and a clumsily decorated birthday cake that looked like Ann and Yusuke had each tried to do their best with piping bags and completely missed each other’s aesthetic. But Akira didn’t care what any of it looked like, because he was too busy being hugged by everyone at once, his arms full of Haru and Ann, Ryuji and Futaba hanging off his back and Makoto and Yusuke throwing their arms around the cluster of people as best they could. Even with two of their number missing, Akira was more than content at his birthday gift.

It was almost everything he could have asked for.

***

It was only later, laying around half-comatose in the attic from the food and excitement, that Ryuji asked about Goro.

“We’ve been trying to figure out how to get to him, but nobody’ll talk about where they’re keeping him,” Ryuji grouched. “Do you have any ideas, dude?”

Akira flashed him a smile from the sofa, where both Haru and Futaba were using him as a pillow. “I’ve got a plan,” he said. “But it’s something I have to do myself. I don’t know if I can get him back, yet, but I can at least see if he’s okay.”

Ann groaned from the bed. “We can’t help?”

“”You guys got me out of prison,” Akira said. “Take a break for now and let me handle things.”

“We can still do more,” Makoto insisted. “The Shadow Operatives aren’t unbeatable.”

Akira chuckled quietly. “I know. And I don’t think they’re bad people, at least not the ones that have Goro, so I want to scope everything out first. Listen to your leader, Queen,” he teased.

“You’ve been out of prison only a few hours and you’re already in command again. It’s quite admirable,” Yusuke said, framing the scene between outstretched fingers, and Akira just grinned. He would sleep well tonight, and tomorrow start laying out the details.

Prison hadn’t squashed his will of rebellion one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything that I know about the Japanese court system comes from Wikipedia and playing every Ace Attorney game. So if anything is off, please don’t tell me, because I’m not worried. XDDDD
> 
> It wouldn’t be a proper fix-fic without making Morgana human. He deserves to be, and since I’ve already implied that Igor _meant_ for him to be human and missed the mark, it’s only fair. He’s a smol human, though, so he’s gonna have to put up with being parented at some point.
> 
> There’s two chapters left, and damn, I really couldn’t have planned this better if I tried. Valentine’s Day on the date that you first meet Akechi in-game, and the final on the day before I leave for vacation. I won’t have to leave you guys hanging for the last chapter. Go me! XD
> 
> Next chapter: Secrets and clever plans everywhere. Everywhere except for in the kitchen with the Wild Card making homemade chocolate for a lover he’s not allowed to see. Oh well. At least his attendant likes chocolate. Happy Valentine’s, Lavenza! :P


	60. February 13th-14th, 2017

When Ryoji got home from his afternoon shift at Chagall Cafe, he found Minato sprawled on one of the armchairs in the living room, ordering something on the phone. He listened curiously as he kicked off his shoes by the door, and by the time he wandered in to flop across Minato’s lap, the other had hung up and was yawning.

“We’re having take-out for dinner,” Minato said by way of explanation. “I made an executive decision and ordered Italian.”

“I thought you were going to try that ginger pork recipe,” Ryoji said. “Didn’t feel like cooking today?”

Minato shook his head, looking torn somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Goro walked Koromaru this morning...all the way to the grocery store, where he proceeded to get all of the ingredients for homemade chocolate. He and Lavenza have been in the kitchen for six hours and refused to let me help. I have no idea what state it could be in, so I’m taking the easy way out. Hopefully there are plates left.”

For some reason, that was the funniest thing Ryoji had heard all day, and he practically fell off the chair from the force of his giggles. But gradually his mirth faded as he realized the implications. “What are they even doing? I know Valentine’s is tomorrow, but Goro-kun can’t see the Phantom Thieves. What is he going to do with all of that chocolate?”

Minato shrugged. “I don’t know, but the few times I’ve checked on them, he looks far too happy to tell him to stop.”

“You don’t think he knows, do you?” Ryoji asked. “Do you think Lavenza told him?” He glanced at the kitchen door suspiciously, but neither amateur cook was visible.

“She wouldn’t,” Minato assured him. “She likes surprises too much.”

“And this is going to be the best surprise,” Ryoji declared, leaning up to kiss his fiancé.

“Yes, it is.”

***

In the kitchen, chaos reigned. There were flecks of chocolate on every square inch of countertop, half the bowls were piled in the sink, and both Lavenza and Goro had ingredients smudged all over them. Tempering chocolate was much more difficult than either of them had been expecting, and each recipe they read had a slightly different tip for how to do it. Goro’s hair was falling out of its messy ponytail, and the oversized t-shirt Lavenza was wearing in place of an apron had Rorschach patterns of cocoa scattered across the front.

They’d spent several hours rolling truffles and dusting them with cocoa, and now a whole bowl of those rested safely in the fridge. Then they’d moved on to the filled chocolates, which were slightly more challenging. Goro had bought a few heart-shaped molds, but those proved too shallow for filling. So while Lavenza devised a strategy to make dark-chocolate hearts striped with white chocolate, Goro figured out how to use the ice trays as deeper molds. Coffee-flavored ganache was cooling on the stove, and other than the truly impressive pile of dishes they were amassing, everything was going well.

“I hope my siblings appreciate their sweets,” Lavenza commented. They’d figured out on the second try that piping bags were a lot easier than trying to spoon melted chocolate into the small molds, and she filled the last heart in carefully and then tapped the mold against the counter to even out any imperfections. “Thank you for letting me help.”

“Of course. We make a good team.” Goro filled another piping bag with ganache and went to get the ice trays out of the fridge. “I was surprised that you wanted to. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I expected people as powerful as you and your siblings to be unconcerned with something as mundane as cooking. Do you even need to eat?”

“Not the way you do,” Lavenza replied. “Food is usually something to eat because it tastes good, not because we need it. But my siblings lived here for almost three years, and outside of the Room we need sustenance like normal humans. They learned so much, and I...feel a bit inadequate in comparison to their many new experiences.”

“Well, the good thing about new experiences is that you can always have more,” Goro said, filling the waiting chocolate shells. “I’ve never made chocolate for anyone before. We’re both learning something new today.”

Lavenza smiled radiantly at him and moved her molds to the fridge. “I’m so glad.”

Their matching Jack Frosts sat on the kitchen table, the only chocolate-free zone, keeping silent vigil. The note that had been beneath one’s hat was safely crumpled in Goro’s pocket, and unlike the usual report on how Akira was and what his days were like, this one contained just a single instruction:

> _Leave Jack Frost sitting outside your door tonight._

Goro knew very well what that implied, but Akira was still in jail. Even so, he couldn’t help but have hope. They’d pulled off miracles before. Maybe he could ask for a selfish miracle, just for himself this time.

While all of the chocolates hardened in the fridge, they scrubbed down the counters as best they could and assembled the pretty chocolate boxes he’d bought. Lavenza chose a pile of smaller ones, while Goro had a single, two tier box for himself. They laid out their truffles and filled cubes and hearts, dividing them up evenly between the boxes and dumping the extras into a tupperware for the rest of the dorm residents. Lavenza was just polishing off one last box for Nameless when Minato leaned into the kitchen, looking over the chocolate-smudged kids and then waving.

“Come on, dinner’s here,” he said, laughing at what a mess they were. “Did you get everything done?”

Goro looked at the pile of dishes they’d left behind guiltily as Minato stepped around him to get plates and cups out of a chocolate-free cabinet. “Yes… My apologies for the mess; I’ll do the dishes later.”

“It’s no trouble,” Minato assured him, leading the way back to the dining room, where the scent of garlic was filling the air. Lavenza was hovering like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to join in, but Minato waved her into a chair. It was only after everyone had been served and they’d had a chance to start eating that Minato looked at Goro and asked, “So what are you going to do with all of that chocolate?”

Goro stared down into his shrimp alfredo. “...eat it myself, I suppose,” he said. “We prepared boxes for Lavenza’s siblings, and set aside the leftovers for all of you, but I think I’ll just keep the large box in my room.”

“There were leftovers?” Ken asked, perking up at the prospect of chocolates, and Goro nodded.

“We may have gone a bit overboard,” Lavenza admitted, giggling.

Goro couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, perhaps. But I simply wanted the experience of making chocolate for myself. It’s not something that I’ve ever done before, and even if I cannot give it to the one that I intended, I had fun.”

Minato and Ryoji exchanged a look, smiling fondly. “At least wait to eat them until tomorrow,” Ryoji said cheerfully. “It’s bad luck to eat Valentine’s chocolates ahead of time.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t think otherwise.” At least that way he could pretend that they had been received the way chocolates were intended.

“Speaking of tomorrow,” Ryoji continued, “we’re going to need your help in the morning with reporting on your progress. I know it’s Valentine’s, but you can bring your chocolate along to eat. Hopefully it won’t be too bad.”

“Do you mean we’re going back to Tokyo?” Goro asked. He wasn’t looking forward to having to face Mitsuru in person, but at least being back in the city, no matter how briefly, would be a a relief. Was this a gift? A reward? He wasn’t sure. He shouldn’t overthink it. It was theoretically something nice, and he should appreciate it for what it was.

“Just for the day,” Ryoji said casually. “Mitsuru wants to see how you’re doing in person, is all. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Goro scoffed. “I’m not worried. Kirijo-san doesn’t scare me.”

Ken and Lavenza laughed, and Minato hid a smile. “She’d be disappointed to hear that, I’m sure.”

The rest of dinner passed contentedly. There was no more mention of the impending trip to Tokyo, which didn’t bother Goro. Not thinking about it meant he wouldn’t have time to get anxious. For all of his bravado, he was a bit concerned what Mitsuru would say or think. He didn’t exactly know what she was expecting from his time here. He hadn’t been privy to any of the other progress reports, so he didn’t know whether she was pleased with him or not, and if she decided he wasn’t doing well or wasn’t doing enough, she might make him leave.

And he...didn’t want to leave.

But that was a fear for another day, not tonight. Tonight he needed a shower and a nap, and then…

And then?

A crumpled paper sat in his pocket, tucked away like a promise, and there was always hope.

***

“And where are you off to?” Sojiro asked as Akira thumped down the cafe steps, neatly-wrapped box of chocolates in hand.

Akira screeched to a halt on the other side of the counter, eyes wide. “You’re still here.”

“I’ve been taking inventory so I can do a supply restock,” Sojiro said, holding up a clipboard casually. “That doesn’t answer my question. Where are you going this late in the evening? With chocolate, I might add?”

“I, er…” Akira rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “Out. To hang out with my friends. That like chocolate?”

Sojiro raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“...I’m going to see Goro,” he admitted guiltily. “Or try, at least.”

“Ah.” Sojiro shrugged and turned away to continue counting his supply of curry spices. “Be back tomorrow, at least. I’ve gotten word that Narukami wants all you kids here to talk about something. Futaba’s probably going to text you soon.”

“Y-You’re not going to try to stop me?” Akira asked.

Sojiro just shrugged again, a smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t get caught, Phantom Thief.”

Akira couldn’t help but grin. “I won’t.” He headed out into the night, making his way through Yongen and to Shibuya, where the Velvet door was waiting. Lavenza had given him his key as a birthday present, and he slipped inside, keeping an eye out for the other attendants as he worked his way to the door that led to wherever Minato lived. Lavenza was on his side, but he couldn’t be sure that the others wouldn’t try to stop him.

Everything was quiet, and he found the door quickly. Following Minato that one time had paid off, even if he hadn’t actually made it through the door at the time. Now, he was able to slip his shoes off carefully and step through the door into the unfamiliar building.

No one was down on the ground floor. The lights had been cut out, and Akira looked around curiously before creeping up the stairs. There was a light on in one of the rooms on the second floor, but no Jack Frost, and he slowed his steps even further, not wanting to alert whoever was still awake to his presence. Thankfully the stairs were silent, and as he reached the third floor, he spotted the plush sitting in front of a closed door and grinned. Lavenza had come through. She was definitely cute enough to dodge suspicion.

He’d have to make her an honorary Phantom Thief.

***

Goro had been trying to read in bed, curled on his side facing away from the door and pretending that he wasn’t an anxious ball of nerves. He’d left the Jack Frost plush outside like he’d been told, but he was still nervous. Any moment now, one of his guardians would knock on the door, wanting to know why he’d left the plush in the hallway. Either that or, quite possibly a worse option, nothing would happen at all. He’d have gotten his hopes up for nothing, because his boyfriend was still in prison.

The sound of the door opening gave him pause, because no one ever just came into his room. They always, _always_ knocked and waited for verbal permission. It was something Goro truly appreciated. But if someone was coming in without knocking, that meant…

The door clicked closed again, and he took a steadying breath before rolling over and looking to see the source of the sound. Akira was standing there, holding the Jack Frost and a small rectangular box, and smiling.

“Hey, honey,” he said, and despite the teasing pet-name, his voice was so full of relief and fondness that Goro could have cried right then. But he settled for scrambling out of bed to throw himself at Akira instead, and Akira set the box and plush down just quickly enough to catch him, wrapping his arms tight around Goro’s waist and pulling him close against the warmth of his body.

“Akira--!” It was embarrassing how his voice cracked, but he was so happy to see him that it didn’t even matter. He just held tighter, feeling Akira’s lips against his temple. The few days they’d been separated after Shido’s Palace felt like nothing compared to how long it had been this time. He didn’t think he could bring himself to let go even if he wanted to. But it was Akira who leaned back first, just enough so he could press his lips to Goro’s, and Goro practically melted against him.

“How?” he croaked when they separated, leaning their foreheads together. “You’re...You’re in jail, you can’t leave the Velvet Room if you’re dreaming…”

“I’m free,” Akira replied, reaching up to cup his face in one hand and watching him lean into the touch. “Heck of a birthday present, being let out of juvie. They didn’t tell you?”

Goro felt his stomach drop. “No… They didn’t.” Why not? He knew he wasn’t supposed to contact the Thieves, but Akira being released from jail _two days ago_ seemed like something pretty significant. Lavenza hadn’t said anything, his guardians hadn’t even given the slightest hint… _Why?_ He thought that they would at least give him a little bit of good news… There was no way that they hadn’t known.

“Hey,” Akira murmured, seeming to catch his spiraling thoughts. He leaned forward to kiss Goro’s cheek. “It’s okay. That just made this a better surprise, right?”

“Yes,” Goro replied, still feeling off-kilter from the shock, but Akira just kissed him again and walked them back towards the bed.

Once they were curled together, Goro’s head finding its familiar place on Akira’s shoulder, Akira asked, “They really have been treating you well, right? It’s been impossible to find any kind of information; Futaba’s tried, but they aren’t keeping digital records on you anywhere that she can get to them.”

"They treat me better here than anyone ever did in the foster system, let's just say that," Goro said with a weak laugh. "Arisato-san cooks for everyone, and they treat me like I'm just another part of the household. It feels very much like what I imagine probation was like for you, before everything in November." He nuzzled Akira's shoulder. "But what about you? You were in _jail;_ that can't have been pleasant. I saw you just once by accident, in the Velvet Room, but Lavenza told me not to wake you because you weren’t sleeping well."

“I really wasn’t, but the Velvet attendants helped. When they weren’t busy stopping me from trying to spy on your practice sessions,” Akira chuckled. “What were you up to? Arisato-san can’t have been showing you how to fight; you’re too good at that already.”

He was caught off-guard as Goro sat up, his eyes bright as he braced his hands on Akira’s chest. “I can call on more personas now!” he said excitedly. “Arisato-san showed me how to negotiate with them, and Lavenza is keeping my compendium, similar to yours.” It was the same sort of fervor that filled his voice when he got really into a discussion about Featherman, and Akira just let him carry on, listening to him with pride. Goro continued, “Obviously I have the greatest affinity with my own arcana, but we’re working out which ones are also strongly aligned to mine. So far the only one that has gone poorly was a persona of the Hierophant arcana, but Arisato-san isn’t entirely sure what causes strong or weak affinity, so we don’t know why. Oh, and I completed my first fusion!”

At the flicker of wariness that crossed Akira’s face, he was quick to add, “It’s all right. The proper fusions are done with tarot cards that embody the different personas. Lavenza says that all of the execution equipment was destroyed with the prison.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Akira sighed. “I never wanted you to have to deal with something like that. In hindsight, I should have known there was something wrong with the Velvet Room a lot sooner. It was too brutal to be anything good.”

“You had no frame of reference,” Goro reminded him. “Everything that we saw of the metaverse was something twisted and rotten. Of course it would make sense for the Velvet Room to be the same, when all we knew were the worst parts.” He leaned down to press a kiss to Akira’s lips. “Have they shown you the Sea of Souls?”

Akira shook his head. “Not yet.”

“It’s...beautiful. I don’t even know how to describe it; it’s like being in the planetarium, but just… _more_.” Goro’s voice was reverent. “I wish I could show you…”

“I’m sure I’ll get to see it eventually.” Akira reached up to pull Goro back down on top of him. “I want to hear more about what it’s like to live here.”

So Goro told him about everything that was too much to include on a tiny note hidden under a plushie’s hat. About going cycling in the little city that he was still learning how to navigate, about playing video games with everyone, including the occasional Velvet attendant. He told him how Minato had taken him to the mall after his first week and helped him pick out new clothes; anything that he wanted, now that he no longer had to keep up appearances. Although his favorite was still Akira’s tacky red sweatshirt.

“They’ve been so kind,” he said, a tinge of disbelief that he hadn’t quite managed to quell still lingering in his voice. “They’ve never once judged me, belittled me, or even threatened to raise a hand against me. Even when I was, quite frankly, being an asshole my first week here.”

Akira snorted. “I think you were justified in being an asshole, since they didn’t even bother to tell you where you were going before they dragged you out here. I don’t even know where Iwatodai _is_. I’m gonna have to go home and look at a map.” Pushing them both to a sitting position, he scanned Goro’s eyes for any hint of walls, and when he found none he said, “I’m just glad you’re okay. Your notes made it seem like you were doing fine, but I wanted to see for myself. I’ll have to tell the others that you’re happy, because I swear, they’re on the verge of storming Kirijo-san’s office to find you.”

“Please don’t upset Kirijo-san on my behalf,” Goro said quickly. “I am happy, truly. Obviously I wish that I could be back in Tokyo with you and our friends, but...this place and these people are far nicer than I would have ever thought I deserved, before you changed my heart.”

He got up, then, dragging Akira up with him and heading for the desk. “You really are here, so you have to try the chocolates I made you.”

“You made chocolate?” Akira said, and Goro scowled at the implied disbelief in the question.

“Of course I made chocolate. Lavenza and I worked hard on these.”

Akira kissed his ruffled boyfriend’s forehead before opening up the box. “Wow. These look really nice, actually.” He picked up one of the cubes and took a bite, expression lighting up as he tasted the coffee ganache. “Damn, Goro, these are amazing. How are mine supposed to measure up?”

Goro glanced at the box Akira had brought, belatedly realizing what had to be in it. “You made me chocolate?”

“Of course I made chocolate,” Akira parroted, stuffing a truffle in his mouth. “Not fancy like this, though, so I feel kind of bad.”

“Idiot. I didn’t even expect you to show up, much less with chocolate. Unless it’s toxic, I couldn’t care less about how fancy you made them.” Goro popped the box open, finding simple dark and milk chocolates in the shape of little cat faces. They were adorable, but honestly, cats? Goro chuckled and popped one into his mouth, humming thoughtfully. “These are acceptable, I guess. Nothing special,” he said with a grin.

Akira just waved to grab his attention, one of the chocolate hearts held delicately between his teeth. It was horribly cheesy, but Goro leaned in to indulge him and bite the other half. He ate his half slowly, eyeing a smudge of chocolate on Akira’s lower lip. “Happy Valentine’s Day, attic trash.”

“Happy Valentine’s, honey,” Akira replied, wrapping an arm around his waist.

As tempting as it was to lie around feeding each other chocolates, eventually Akira took a step back. “I should go, otherwise I’ll miss the last train home from Shibuya,” he said regretfully. “Sojiro said there’s some meeting we have to be there for tomorrow, and the longer I’m here, the more likely I’ll get caught.”

Goro’s fingers latched onto his sleeve before he’d even realized he’d moved. “Wait, no,” he said.

“Goro…”

_“No,”_ Goro repeated emphatically. “It’ll be fine, Really. I can distract them in the morning and you can sneak out. Besides, I want to know why they didn’t tell me that you were out of jail; that will cause enough of a discussion to keep their focus away from the door. Stay.”

Akira could feel himself wavering. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Goro shook his head. “Honestly, it will be fine. They have no reason to think anything is amiss.” Dismissing the odd feeling that he was forgetting something, he leaned up against Akira, looking straight into his eyes. “I have no idea when I will get another opportunity like this, so I’m keeping you as long as I can.”

Akira’s expression turned cocky, Joker’s smirk quirking his lips. “Really, now? I didn’t bring any pajamas, you know.”

Goro raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re not going to need them.”

***

Goro woke around mid-morning feeling so relaxed that for a moment he was convinced he was still asleep. He was spooned against Akira’s back, arm draped possessively over the other boy’s waist, and Akira was so languid in his arms that Goro was sure he could be classified as some sort of liquid. Or cat. Or both.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the back of Akira’s neck, feeling the pleased hum rumble in his chest just as much as he heard it, and nestled closer. This was nice; he would be so happy if he could wake up like this every day, warm and comfortable and wrapped around Akira. They could lay around in bed until they got hungry, and then go see what was for a late breakfast--

Goro remembered why they were supposed to have gotten up early, why they needed to stop being lazy and get up, a split second before there was a knock on his door.

“Akechi-kun?” It was Minato’s voice. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“R-Right,” Goro replied, hoping he sounded half-asleep instead of panicked. “I’ll be down in just a minute.” He tightened his grip on Akira, who had stopped breathing, whispering a reassuring, “It’s okay, it’s okay, we just have to be quiet…”

But, of course, the universe (and the Universe, apparently) was unwilling to let him get away with anything, and the next thing out of Minato’s mouth was, “All right. Ask Kurusu-kun what he wants to drink, too.”

_“What?”_ But he got no response; Minato had already walked away to go back downstairs, and Akira rolled over to stare at him with wide eyes.

“Well,” he said, sounding a bit flat, “I’m going to die. If they don’t kill me, Kirijo-san will. I’ll have to flee the country.”

“They’re not going to kill you,” Goro huffed, but he pulled Akira close regardless. Tucking the mess of curls beneath his chin, he let Akira hold on tightly as he realized what he had been forgetting the night before. “That’s right… Wild Cards can sense each other, and he’s more powerful than either of us… Of course he’d know you were here.”

“Did he know last night, then?” Akira asked, muffled against his neck.

Goro felt embarrassment churning in his stomach. He really hoped his guardians weren’t aware of how he’d spent his night. “If he did, he didn’t stop you. I think that counts for something. Relax. I’ve told you, they’re good people.”

“They are,” Akira said quietly. “But it’s not them that I’m worried about.”

To that, Goro had no answer, because he was in the same boat. There was no way they would leave an incident like this out of his report. But honestly, given the choice, he would do all of this again. It was worth it to have just that little bit of time with Akira.

They dressed quickly and went downstairs hand-in-hand, and Goro could feel Akira shaking. It was just a slight tremor, but he squeezed his hand gently, trying to convey as much reassurance as he could. Every time Akira had been caught doing something questionable, it had ended badly. He could understand why he was anxious.

Minato was setting the dining room table for four, and Goro looked around. “Where are Ken-kun and Koromaru?” he asked, aware of Akira fidgeting beside him.

“Ken has gone to spend the day with some of his classmates as they all gripe about being single,” Minato quipped. He finished setting out the plates and looked up at them, and before Goro could stop him Akira stepped forward.

“Don’t punish Goro,” he said earnestly. “I’m the one that snuck in here, so please…”

Minato stared at him. “...we’re not going to punish either of you. What do you want to drink?”

Akira stopped mid-martyring, stammering out a confused request for juice, and Goro tugged him over to the table, smugly satisfied at being proven right. Ryoji emerged from the kitchen with a platter of french toast, and despite how nervous Akira still looked, they all managed to sit down together.

“Kurusu-kun, I don’t believe you had a chance to meet my fiancé,” Minato said, gesturing to the other man. “This is Mochizuki Ryoji. We’ve been taking care of Akechi-kun during his rehabilitation.”

Akira flinched at the term, but mustered a polite bow of his head. “He said you both were very kind to him.”

“He’s been through a lot. You both have,” Minato took in how both of them had scooted their chairs closer together, and smiled. “We’re not going to tell Mitsuru-san about this. Any blame will fall on me.”

Goro picked at his toast. “When did you know that Akira was out of jail?” he asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“Yu-kun called me the day he was released,” Minato replied, and that? That stung.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Goro set his fork down with more force than strictly necessary. It felt too much like a betrayal. They hadn’t kept important things from him before, not as long as he’d been here. “I’ve been worried for weeks whether or not he was okay, wondering how they were treating him, and you just… Were you ever going to tell me? It wouldn’t have broken the rules just to let me know that he was out!” Yes, he’d had his notes, but he also knew that if Akira was truly suffering, he wasn’t going to come out and say it. He’d keep it to himself to avoid worrying Goro. Knowing he wasn’t in prison at all would have been preferable to a guessing game of how much he was revealing.

“Goro-kun, calm down, it was supposed to be a surprise,” Ryoji soothed, unfazed by his temper. “Of course we were going to tell you; Kurusu-kun just got here first.” Both boys looked confused, and Ryoji grinned. “We weren’t taking you to Mitsuru today. We’ve got to give your report, yeah, but we were going to drop you off at Leblanc.”

“Oh my god,” Goro said helplessly.

Akira’s eyes widened. “That’s… That’s why Narukami-san called Sojiro to make sure we were all there. You were going to let him see all of us.”

“Yep. You got a little ahead of us, Phantom Thief.” But Minato didn’t seem concerned by that at all. “That’s why I didn’t stop you when I sensed you last night. We were already planning to let him see you, and whatever plan you hatched to get here obviously worked well, so there was no harm in letting you stay.”

Akira felt a little overwhelmed. They were...exactly as kind as Goro had said they were. Subconsciously he’d trusted these two more than Kirijo-san, but to have it explicitly proven was new. “I… Thank you. Thank you for letting me stay.”

“This can’t be a regular thing, I hope you understand,” Minato said. “But until Mitsuru-san is satisfied with his progress, we can let you visit occasionally. Just don’t tell her that we’re being so lax.” His smile was mischievous.

That was more than he’d ever expected, and Akira couldn’t even find the words to express the gratitude he was feeling. Even if the rest of the Shadow Operatives were unhelpful adults, these two, at least, were good.

Ryoji seemed to pick up on the expression on his face and smiled fondly. “Believe me, we understand how much it hurts to be separated. Our intention with this was never to cause you two _more_ unnecessary pain.”

“And there’s one surprise left, at least,” Minato said casually, “so you didn’t sabotage all of our plans. After breakfast, we’re going to send you ahead back to Leblanc, so go see your friends, and we’ll be right behind you.”

***

The trip back through the Velvet Room was a lot less nerve-wracking than sneaking through the night before. Akira carried his Valentine’s chocolates proudly and walked hand-in-hand with Goro until they emerged into Shibuya.

They lingered in the Scramble for a few minutes, giving Goro time to take in being in Tokyo again before making their way to the station. It wasn’t too crowded on the train, and Yongen was quiet, and apparently the other Thieves had collectively left school after only half a day, citing a variety of excuses. So when Akira and Goro finally reached Leblanc, the others were already waiting, and there was an eruption of yelling almost immediately.

“Goro!” He was forced to brace himself against all of the Thieves trying to hug him and ask questions at the same time, and finally Sojiro had to wade through the pile of kids and salvage him from the center, finding him a spot at the counter and bringing him a cup of coffee.

“Glad you seem well,” Sojiro said warmly, and Goro ducked his head, smiling.

“I am. Thank you.”

“Akira really did get you back!” Ryuji cheered.

“What was it like living with the Shadow Operatives?” Haru asked.

“Where were you staying?” Makoto chimed in.

Goro took a sip of his coffee and held up his hands in a desperate bid for quiet. “First of all, Akira didn’t get me anywhere. I’m being allowed to visit. They’ve been kind enough to give me the day to spend with you all.” He gestured at the door. “They’ll be here soon; they said they had one more thing to show us.” What he didn’t say was that he had a feeling he knew what that was. They would find out soon enough.

He spent a while talking with them all, answering the same sort of questions Akira had asked about his living situation and his guardians. Some of them, particularly Ryuji and Makoto, took some convincing that he was truly happy, but with Akira to back him up it went well. And when the bell chimed again and they all looked to the door, Goro smirked, knowing that he had been right.

Minato and Ryoji were standing there, Morgana in-between them with a huge grin on his face.

Goro got up to introduce everyone. “Everyone, this is Arisato-san and Mochizuki-san. They’ve been taking care of me. And obviously, these are the rest of my friends, the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.” He skipped Morgana, waiting to see who would be the first to figure it out.

“Why didn’t you introduce the little guy?” Futaba asked.

“...that’s not Ken-san, you said he was your age…” Ann began. “And you didn’t mention that they had a kid…”

“He does bear a strong resemblance to Mochizuki-san,” Yusuke offered.

Ryoji patted Morgana on the head with a wink. “What do you think? Are you going to tell them your full name?”

“I haven’t picked my full name yet,” the boy laughed, and all of the Thieves except Goro froze.

Akira, in particular, ended up with his mouth hanging open. “M-Morgana… Morgana!”

Morgana beamed, and was almost immediately enveloped in the same group hug that had almost smothered Goro when he arrived. Minato and Ryoji ducked around the counter to avoid the onslaught, ending up alongside Sojiro, who was shaking his head and muttering, “Nine kids, jesus…”

“At least they’re well-behaved,” Minato offered. “Most of the time, anyway.”

Sojiro rolled his eyes. “How much trouble is Akira in?”

“None. As I told him, we were planning to let them visit anyway. He just got to us a little sooner than we thought,” Minato replied. They watched the kids disperse to a booth, Morgana sitting in Haru’s lap, and then he continued, “Morgana is mostly human now. I understand if you’re not prepared to look after another kid, so we can take him back with us if we have to.”

“Are you joking?” Sojiro asked dryly. “They’re already going to be unhappy enough that you’re taking Akechi back with you. At least, I’m assuming you are. The point is, I don’t think I get a say in whether the cat stays or not. I’ve just got to dig out the extra futon.” He went to get two more mugs, making the two of them their own cups of coffee. “I’m glad you’re taking care of Akechi, though. That kid really needed it, and I wasn’t sure I trusted Kirijo-san not to make things worse.”

“We’re doing our best,” Ryoji said. “And that means fudging Mitsuru’s rules just a little. Goro-kun can spend the day here while we give our report on his progress, but then yeah, we have to take him back with us.”

Sojiro nodded. “I understand. I know they’ll be glad they got to see him, at least.”

“He’s a good kid.” Minato watched the Thieves laughing and taking turns fussing over Morgana fondly. “He deserves this.”

The group at the table had apparently come to a consensus, much to Akira’s embarrassment.

“No, I think ‘Kurusu Morgana’ sounds perfect!” Ann said brightly. “You two are already basically family. Just make it more obvious!”

“I guess staying with this guy wouldn’t be so bad,” Morgana said, but it was clear the idea made him really happy. He’d ended up in the booth next to Akira, and he looked up, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “I...can stay with you, right?”

Akira ruffled his hair with a smirk. “You get to explain to anyone that asks where I suddenly got a baby brother, Frizzy Hair.”

“Hey, don’t call me a baby!”

They were all going to be just fine.

***

_“Oh, you’re both here.”_

_“It’s Valentine’s, Mitsuru-senpai. We can’t be adorable if we’re not in arm’s reach of each other all day.”_

_“I suppose Amada-kun is watching Akechi-kun, then?”_

_“Nope. He’s at Leblanc with the Phantom Thieves.”_

_“...”_

_“Please don’t look at us like that.”_

_“I made three rules. Just three.”_

_“He spent six hours making Valentine’s chocolate yesterday. What were we supposed to do? Besides, he’s been doing really well. It’s positive reinforcement.”_

_“Minato.”_

_“Mitsuru.”_

_“...fine. I trust your judgment. Just don’t let this become a habit.”_

_“Major rewards are better when they’re spaced out. On that note, I’ve got a question. You’ve still got that vacation house, right…?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **RANK UP**   
>  **CONFIDANTE LAVENZA**   
>  **STAR RANK 3**
> 
> **RANK UP**   
>  **CONFIDANTE MINATO ARISATO/RYOJI MOCHIZUKI**   
>  **UNIVERSE/DEATH RANK 5**   
> 
> 
> Lots of implied rank-ups because we've been skipping big chunks of time. Happy Valentine's and 6/9, nerds! :P Did you guys watch the new anime episode, because AAAA.
> 
> There was a scrapped version of this where Akira was moping at Leblanc and Minato and Ryoji showed up with Goro. They asked him to go get something from the back room or the attic and then pulled a "whoops, we lost Goro, oops, no time to look for him now, we'll come back later, bye" and then left. XD But Akira thiefing his way into the dorm seemed to fit what he would do more. 
> 
> The missing scene can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15170879). ;)
> 
> Next chapter: ...we're at the end of this thing, which means this is basically the epilogue. Time to head out from Tokyo and into the horizon, metaphorically and literally. But this time, the kids get to make all their choices themselves. No gods, no manipulations, just...choices for how to keep going.
> 
> And let's be honest, probably a really long author's note. XD


	61. March 20th, 2017

The Velvet Room’s music was soothing as Akira perched on the edge of one of the couches, sitting across the coffee table from Igor’s armchair. It helped a little as he tried to maintain a calm facade. Every time he was face to face with Igor, there was a moment of instinctive fear that it would be Yaldabaoth’s voice all over again, that everything good that had happened was just a mocking dream. But he was getting better little by little, and the Master of the Velvet Room had been incredibly patient with him.

“Today is an important day for you, I understand,” Igor said, and Akira nodded.

“We’re leaving Tokyo,” he replied. “Not for long, if everything goes well, but...there’s something I have to do, and the Thieves are going to help me.”

He had to confront his parents. They hadn’t spoken since Akira had screamed at them over the phone the night Shido’s ship sank beneath the sea and disappeared. He wasn’t even sure if they knew that he’d been in jail; he’d been too anxious to ask Sojiro if they’d called. But they expected him to come ‘home’, and he was going to oblige, even if only to tell them that he was going to stay in Tokyo with the Sakuras instead. Kawakami had promised him when he’d gone to turn in the last of his coursework for the year that his place at Shujin was being held for him, and would be there up until at least a week after the new year started to give him time to sort out his situation. She’d been a lifesaver, really, making sure that he got his schoolwork while he’d been ‘dead’ and in prison, so that he could still finish the year and move up to the third-year class with his friends.

Lavenza walked over to open his compendium on the table, revealing a two-page spread that showed the twenty-two major arcana cards. The last card was blank and glowing softly, and Akira frowned.

“What’s that last one? I know that all of my bonds are strong, but I don’t remember either of you mentioning that I was missing an arcana.”

“The final arcana is the World, the pinnacle of a Wild Card’s personal journey,” Igor said. “There are many factors that go into achieving this arcana; it is not one that can be obtained simply through a bond. Our former guests went through great trials, finding their personal Answers to Life and obtaining great truths and beliefs. Your trials, though you have overcome much, are not yet over.”

“Is that why I can’t call Satanael?” Akira asked.

Igor smiled proudly. “Indeed. Your ability to summon the demon lord was bolstered by the collective will of humanity behind you, as being a Trickster allows you to be a conduit for that will and belief. Your individual strength is not yet such to call upon him on your own, but you will reach it in time.”

Akira could only imagine that there was one thing left to do. But it seemed so mundane in comparison to fighting something as huge and powerful as Yaldabaoth that he half-wondered if he was wrong about it. His personal journey… if he could defeat a god, he could handle anything.

Right?

Igor picked up on his thoughts with ease. “Sometimes,” he said levelly, “a smaller battle has greater potential to wound than all-out war.”

Akira ducked his head. “...thank you for everything,” he said. “I know that I’ve been difficult, because of...well, everything, but thank you.”

“Your experiences made your reactions quite reasonable,” Lavenza assured him. “We understand.”

“Lavenza is correct. You have been an exceptional guest, and you will always be welcomed here.” Igor’s sharp eyes met his when he looked up, like they were looking into his very soul. “You are a fine heir to the title of Trickster.”

***

When he returned to Leblanc, mulling over what they had said, Sojiro caught him and made him sit.

“You need a good meal before you all head out. Heaven knows I don’t trust you kids not to eat nothing but fast food the whole way there,” he grumbled, but Akira knew he was grouching out of love, so he took the curry without complaint. His bags were already packed, as were Morgana’s and Futaba’s, who were sitting at the other end of the counter with their own plates of curry, eating enthusiastically.

The past month had taken a lot of adapting on Morgana’s part. His love of sushi was as strong as ever, but with a completely new set of taste buds, it had been an adventure trying all the things he hadn’t been able to as a cat. Ann and Haru had spoiled him rotten, taking him out to get all sorts of good food. But, other than sushi, his favorite was still Sojiro’s curry, made with all the familial love the man had in him.

“What did your blue friends say?” Sojiro asked, and Akira muffled as snort into his plate. He was really going to have to introduce Sojiro to Lavenza one day. That would be amusing, if nothing else.

“They wished me well. Reminded me that I’m always welcome,” he said with a shrug. “Said I haven’t finished my journey yet, whatever that means.”

“Well, they’re not the only ones,” Sojiro said firmly. “You’re always welcome here, too. However things go with your parents, I’m expecting you home before school starts. Got it?”

“Got it.” Sojiro had volunteered to call them, but Akira knew that wasn’t how things should go. He had to do this himself. But he’d have his friends to back him up, so he knew everything was going to be okay, no matter what.

“Is there anything else you need to do before you leave?” Sojiro asked.

“Nope. Everything’s all set. Makoto’s going to bring the van up to the end of the street to pick us up, and then we just have to stop by the Scramble,” Akira explained. He’d spent the day before visiting all of his other friends, thanking them for everything and saying his goodbyes, promising he’d be back. They were all doing well, too, in the aftermath of everything. Ohya was on-track to win an award for all of her work investigating Shido’s case, Takemi, too, but for her work on her medicine, Chihaya was doing better business than ever, Iwai and his son were happy… Mishima was gaining more confidence in himself, Hifumi was working her way slowly back up the shogi rankings, Yoshida was gaining public support for a campaign, and Shinya and his mother had been seen playing in the arcade _together_. And Sae was giving up her prosecutor’s badge for the life of a defense attorney instead. Apparently after everything, she wanted to help fight for people like him, to try to make sure that nothing like his case happened to anyone else.

“I finally get to ride in the car with everyone!” Morgana said excitedly as he went to put his empty plate in the kitchen, and Akira almost choked on his curry as Futaba doubled over with laughter.

“Yes… Yes you do, Morgana.”

When they finally grabbed their bags and hugged Sojiro goodbye, Akira took a last look around Leblanc before following his friends out the door. This was a lot less ominous than the last time he’d left on a mission. This time, he knew for sure he’d be back.

***

Waiting in the Scramble crossing for the van full of Thieves, Goro pulled his duffle bag higher on his shoulder and tried not to be nervous. Minato and Mitsuru were waiting with him, and he was half-worried that he would somehow upset Mitsuru in the next five minutes and have his privileges revoked.

After a very long discussion, Akira had only been to visit once since Valentine’s, so he was looking forward to this trip despite the endpoint. Mitsuru ultimately wasn’t too upset about his unauthorized visit with his friends, forced to acknowledge that it had done him good, but she’d sat down with both him and his two guardians to talk over what they would do from there, and it was agreed that in the future they would have to get permission for visits.

“You’ve got your phone?” Minato asked.

Goro nodded. “In the outside pocket.” Getting a phone back for this trip had been a surprise, but he figured it was necessary since he would be gone longer than a few hours.

“Good. While you’re gone, we’ll handle the rest of your enrollment paperwork. Your uniforms will probably arrive, too, so we’ll leave them on your bed,” Minato said. They’d gotten him a place at Gekkoukan High School to redo his third year, since he’d missed too much to make up. It was going to be irritating doing it all again, but at least it wouldn’t be difficult. He was just grateful to have the opportunity. Minato continued, “I know this is a pretty easy road trip, but text when you get there.”

“Mochizuki-san is usually the one fussing,” Goro finally objected. “It doesn’t suit you. Stop treating me like a child.”

“Who do you think I want you to text?” Minato said wryly. Ryoji had accepted his role as parent to a sometimes-moody teenager a lot more willingly.

Goro rolled his eyes before moving his attention to Mitsuru. “Kirijo-san, thank you for letting me go on this trip. I appreciate it.”

Mitsuru regarded him sternly. “I expect you to behave. If you cause any trouble, you already know that you’ll go back to being banned from seeing them. But Minato is correct in his assessment that you have done nothing but improve, so I don’t see any harm in this.” Her expression softened a bit. “Are you certain that you do not want to speak with Shido? Niijima-san contacted me and said that she would be able to get you a meeting, if there was anything left that you wanted to say.”

“I know,” Goro said. “But no, there’s nothing else I want to say to him. It wouldn’t change anything, and even with everything I could rub in his face about all the terrible things he did to me and to everyone… I just don’t care anymore. I’m tired of wasting my time thinking about him. He can wait for his sentence on his own.”

“It’s your choice,” Mitsuru said, but there was pride in her voice. That more than anything confirmed to her that he really had grown.

Another few minutes of waiting, Goro rocking back and forth on his feet, and finally he turned to Minato and blurted, “Why did you do all of this for me?”

Minato was caught off-guard, but only for a moment. He was used to Goro occasionally having doubts about kindness at this point. It was surprising that he’d waited this long to ask, in this case, but apparently the idea of leaving for a few days was loosening his thoughts. “I’ve told you, I thought that you deserved a second chance.”

“That’s not...That’s not all of it, though, is it?”

There was vulnerability in Goro’s expression, and Minato reached up to pat him on the head. “There have been too many people that we haven’t been able to save. Too many things that we haven’t been able to change. The world _ended_ , once, and we lost someone we can never get back, no matter how much power I have. If I could help you, I was going to try the best I could.”

Mitsuru was quiet, watching the two Wild Cards. For all of her experience with meta-space, they were still something a step beyond her, and she knew it. It was why she had allowed Minato’s request to take Goro in the first place, because only one of his own would have the best chance at helping him.

Goro huffed at the response. “Are all ‘good’ Wild Cards as disgustingly sympathetic and forgiving as you and Akira?”

Minato thought about Akira, falling in love with this dumb, aggressively stubborn boy. He thought about Yu, still hoping somewhere deep down that a murderer could one day be his friend. He thought of himself, pulling Death from the jaws of death despite the impending destruction of the world. He thought of Maya’s team, who loved her ‘little siblings’ unconditionally despite their supposed sins. He thought of Naoya’s team, who had never condemned Maki for the darkness in her heart.

“Yes.”

There was a wild honking noise from the curb, catching the attention of all of them plus a large number of passers-by. A passenger van had parked, and the side door slid open to dispense Akira, who walked over to sling an arm around Goro and kiss his cheek. “Hey!” Belatedly he realized Goro wasn’t alone and pinked with embarrassment. “Oh. Hello, Arisato-san, Kirijo-san.”

“Kurusu-kun,” Mitsuru acknowledged. “I trust you’ve been well?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for this.” In one smooth motion he swiped Goro’s duffle, swinging it onto his own shoulder. “It means a lot, really.” He wasn’t going to give the two adults specifics about the trip’s purpose, but he was just glad he got to take all of his friends with him, including his boyfriend.

“As long as you two aren’t causing any trouble.” But Mitsuru didn’t seem actually worried about them, and Akira smiled as angelically as he could.

“Of course not. Unless we somehow find someone worse than Shido between here and my parents’ house,” he quipped innocently, and Goro elbowed him as Minato hid a smile.

“That would take some exceptionally dumb luck,” Goro said, exasperated.

Akira just kept smiling. “Well, we’ve used up the entire world’s supply of dumb luck, so we shouldn’t have to worry.”

Minato and Mitsuru wished them a good trip, Akira threw Goro’s bag into the middle seat of the van, and they piled back in beside Morgana, who was belted in next to the window. Adding a ninth person meant they’d had to get a van with an extra row, since Makoto refused to drive with Morgana sitting on someone’s lap. So Yusuke and Futaba had a row to themselves, as did Ann and Ryuji, only sharing with the luggage that didn’t fit under the seats. Haru rode shotgun, leaving Akira contentedly sandwiched between Goro and Morgana as they got on the highway to leave Tokyo behind them.

“This is going to be great!” Ann said happily. “A whole new adventure. It’s going to be so much more fun than just riding the train up there. Now we don’t have to go straight there.”

“And it wasn’t any great hardship to rent the van, either,” Yusuke added.

Akira grinned. Weapons and armor for the team had gotten expensive near the end, but they still weren’t enough to break the bank. Between Chihaya’s good-luck charms, strategy tips from Hifumi, and coaching in negotiation from Yoshida, the Phantom Thieves had more yen than they knew what to do with. The first thing they’d done after Valentine’s Day was divide the money nine ways, leaving each of them with a solid sum. Sojiro had shown them how to set up bank accounts in a way that no one would get suspicious of their vast wealth, and after that, they’d done as they wished. Yusuke never had to choose between art supplies and food, Ryuji was able to help his mother… It was almost a shame Mementos had collapsed, or they might have been set for life.

They’d been on the highway for about twenty minutes, catching up on how Goro had been and chatting about anything they could think of, when Haru turned in her seat to look back at the rest of them and asked, “What do you all miss most about the metaverse?”

A hush fell over the van as they all considered the question. Akira was the first to speak.

“The freedom. Parkour’s a lot harder in reality,” he said with a laugh. But then he continued, “Seriously, though… Being Joker was absolute liberation. Knowing we were on our own, making our own rules, working towards justice where no one else would… I’m never going to find that feeling ever again, I don’t think.”

Ryuji groaned. “Unfair. I think all of us would say the same thing. Bein’ Thieves was the most amazing thing ever.”

There were nods of agreement all around, and Haru laughed before amending her question. “Okay, then. What is the most trivial, ridiculous thing that you miss, since we apparently all share the same opinion on the main thing?”

“Driving full-speed through Mementos,” Makoto said immediately, honking at a car going under the speed limit. “There’s nowhere else with no speed limits.”

Ann laughed. “I miss that money pool in the bank. I know it was all fake, but it was fun to flop around in it with everyone anyway.”

“The Casino was fun,” Haru said. “Despite the more dangerous games and the stress we were under, we got to spend at least one day enjoying ourselves, and the atmosphere was amazing.”

“I think that was my favorite, too,” Yusuke admitted. “I enjoyed playing poker with Haru, and the aesthetics of the Casino were very much to my taste.”

“Gravity effect in the space dome,” Goro and Futaba said at the same time, and she unbuckled her seatbelt to lean over Ann and high-five him before Yusuke pulled her back into her seat.

Morgana kicked his feet. “I don’t know if I can pick one thing. Watching Joker break that puzzle in the Pyramid was pretty funny, though.”

Akira groaned, and Ryuji nudged him in the back of the head good-naturedly. “Well, I liked seein’ all the fancy stuff on the ship. The giant pool and the restaurant and the smaller casino… It’s a shame the ship was so much more dangerous, or we coulda gone in the pool.”

“It certainly would have been interesting to take advantage of the amenities more, if only to rub Shido’s face in it,” Goro hummed. “Even if food in meta-space wouldn’t be satisfying, the idea of us enjoying ourselves in his Palace when he hated us so much would have made up for it.”

“Listen to you, calling it ‘meta-space’ like you’re some kind of _Shadow Operative_ or something,” Futaba crowed with a grin. “Your new dads are rubbing off on you.”

“Please shut up, or I will decapitate every Featherman figurine that you own,” Goro muttered, refusing to react any more than that to the jab. He leaned on Akira’s shoulder, looking up at him curiously. “What about you? What was your favorite part?”

Akira looked a little embarrassed, but said flippantly, “I kinda miss the mouse thing. You were so cute as a mouse, Goro.”

“No. Pick something else,” Goro said immediately.

“But your little ears were adorrrrrrable~” Akira cooed. “I’ve got that picture Futaba took of us on my phone. It’s my lock screen.”

“It is not!”

Akira laughed. “No, it’s not. It’s the picture of all of us in the Treasure chamber. But it’s the cutest picture, honey.”

Goro huffed. “I’ve changed my mind; I don’t want to go on this trip anymore.”

“You’re just upset that you like being petted.”

“Holy shit, Akira, TMI,” Ryuji complained, as Futaba cackled from the backseat.

“I’m calling Kirijo-san,” Goro said, pulling his new phone out.

“Goro, no!” Akira whined, lunging for it, at the same time as Haru asked, “Why Kirijo-san and not Arisato-san?”

“Because Kirijo-san can send a helicopter to get me,” Goro deadpanned, fending off Akira with a palm against his face. It worked for about three seconds, until Akira licked his palm and Goro jerked his hand back, causing them to bonk their heads together. “Ow!”

“Guys, we’re not even out of Tokyo yet!” Makoto complained, never taking her eyes off the road, and there was a miniature game of keep-away after Ann snatched Goro’s phone that ended after Goro charmed Akira into giving it back.

The ride after that was fairly easy. Traffic wasn’t bad, and they passed around snacks and drinks when people started getting hungry. Morgana fell asleep forty-five minutes in, lulled by the movement of the car. Futaba and Yusuke were playing ‘I Spy’. And when the van finally reached the part of the highway that overlooked the water, they all plastered themselves to the windows.

“It’s the sea!”

While everyone else was distracted, Akira, stuck in the middle, undid his seatbelt and pushed himself up to the sunroof. It took only a second to slide it open, and then he was standing on the seat, letting the wind blow through his hair as Makoto slowed down to a respectable cruising speed.

“Akira!” he heard Goro object distantly, but he was too enamored with the breeze and the hint of salt in the air, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a rush.

Things were okay. _He_ was okay. Whatever happened now, he wasn’t alone, and he never would be again. He had his Thieves, his _family_ , to face anything that was still to come. He had Goro, the two of them practically _handpicked by a god_ for each other, even if it hadn’t quite ended up the way that god had been imagining.

Whatever the future held, he would be ready for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[“Cross my heart, and hope to die, taking this one step at a time. I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine…”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcaL-N0AiDw) _
> 
> The other playlist song is [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0yhrpogieQ), because I very much got a Goro vibe from this particular cover.
> 
> Let us take a moment in this, the last chapter, to look back at the first, because I’m screaming; I’m finally binging dance game content and there’s _actually a bike in Akira’s room_. I threw that in on a whim as an excuse for a bike date and months later, _proven canon_. Hell yeah.  >:D There’s also apparently a whole other section of the attic, which is where the ladder vanished to, and the extra chairs and stuff.
> 
> Anyway, this brings Cascade to a close, but as I’ve assured people, the series isn’t going to stop here. This is enough of a monster on its own; we’re gonna start fresh as we head into the future, because there’s still things I want to do. At the very least from an editing standpoint, I want to go back and maybe do an extra chapter for Intermezzo that’s some of the little things of the Velvet kids learning how Reality works. I want to go back and edit some stuff to make it clearer. Make my Featherman references more consistent. Add some ~clever foreshadowing~ to earlier stuff, maybe. The plan is to add actual chapter titles as I edit, too, so it’ll be pretty obvious how far along I am on that.
> 
> But other than that, now that I’ve saved everyone and hit the Good Ending, I can do the fun stuff that wouldn’t be possible otherwise.
> 
> I want to deal with Akira’s parents, obviously. There’s definitely some stuff that needs to be said there. I want to maybe write Ryoji and Minato’s wedding, but at least the planning of it (Ryoji’s got 29 possible siblings, after all, one of which may or may not be a character we already know, assuming I take some liberties with mythology. XD). We gotta take Goro to the beach. We gotta do something about the presumably-huge inheritance Goro’s getting from Shido. There’s a lot of potential, not even counting other stuff I want to do, like some joke-fic about rocks and an idea I had based on some art. And that kink meme prompt I never finished. And that AU longfic that got outlined in like 2 days. And some crack about Akira’s probation hearing. And I’m still working on that missing scene, I promise, it just takes me longer to write smut than regular things ~~especially since I can’t work on that sort of thing at work. X’’’D~~
> 
> Basically, not planning on going anywhere. I have too many words to stop now, but the posting schedule will go back to being at random when I finish things.
> 
> And I want to say thank you to all of you. Everyone who’s read this far, left a comment, screamed at me, drawn something. Everyone that I’ve dragged into the older games via this fic. All of you lunatics that keep telling me you read the whole thing in one go. Everyone that’s contributed to the tropes page (which, it has been an incredible experience watching that thing get longer and longer as the chapters went on. <3) I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m so grateful for each and every one of you. More than I think you could ever know.
> 
> And now I am off in the morning to the beach for a week and a half with no wifi, so I’m gonna relax and write and do art. I will leave you with a link to the [complete story playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZDULOqmHn6yzd5OtULNTPwiJgZFsPd1S) and one last link to my [Hours tag](http://twilightknight17.tumblr.com/tagged/Hours!verse).
> 
> Thanks for sticking around this far, guys. See you soon. ;)


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